


Bottom of My Heart

by theangelanddean



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Blood, Bottom Misha, Bullying, Coffee Shops, Depression, Dom Jensen, Drug Use, Fluff, Head Injury, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Misha is 18 and Jensen is 17, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pedophilia mention, Protective Jensen, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Skipping Meals, Slow Burn, Smoking, Sub Misha, TAW is a dick bag and should be banned from all cons, Top Jensen, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violence, pansexual misha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelanddean/pseuds/theangelanddean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last year of high school. All Misha wants to do is fight off his bullies, graduate and run to California. But something happens when he joins the school play. The lead, Jensen Ackles, also the king of the school, sparks a new friendship with Misha after defending him against his bullies. Neither knew when their friendship blossomed into a deeper form of endearment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Kindling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am very excited to be writing this fic for Me La. This a dream she had one night and I hope I can bring justice to it. It's a lovely story and I am so glad I have the chance to write it. 
> 
> I will try to be updating every two weeks but I am in Nursing School and everything is super busy. But I love this story and I will stick around to finish it. 
> 
> Note: Misha and Jensen are only a few months apart. Jensen is 17 and Misha is 18.

It was the first day of senior year and Misha was, yet again, sitting underneath the stairs by himself during lunch. He didn’t expect anyone to talk to him nor did he hope. Moving from Boston to Dallas was hard enough, but being labeled _the weird new kid_ , hit his self esteem hard. Misha pretended everything was fine but his parents’ divorce and being forced to separate from his brother made for a cocktail of disturbed mental health. 

Making a peace sign with his carrots, Misha closes his eyes and leans back, going into a deep trance. He wants to do something for the world. Growing up in a poor environment, he knows of the hardships life hands you. What the world needed was kindness and right now no one was ready or willing to give it. His dreams are interrupted when he was startled by chocolate milk being poured over his head. Looking up through the steps, he sees the pasty white face of Robert and two of mindless followers laughing down at him. 

“Look, the weirdo came back for another year.” Cody sneered down at him as he threw the crust of his finished pizza at his soaked hair. 

“How pathetic.” Robert smirks. “I mean, aren’t those the same clothes he wore last year? You poor or something?” 

Misha picks the pizza crusts out of his hair while chuckling at their words. He wasn’t expecting anything else from the trio. In fact, this is the least damage they’ve done to him. He’s considers himself lucky. 

“What you laughing at, faggot?” Brad growls. 

“Nothing.” Misha flashes his gummy smile. “I just missed my wonderful friends over the summer. Though, I would rather have snow cones thrown on my head in the Texan heat instead of warm chocolate milk.” 

“Fucking, weirdo.” Cody snorts as he pulls out his phone to take a picture of Misha’s drenched face. “Totally going to post this everywhere. _Most Disgusting_.”

“Let’s go.” Robert waves at his friends. “He’s a lost cause anyway.” 

Once they leave, Misha’s smile disappears into a deep sigh. He bangs his head back on the brick wall. He doesn’t know what he did to be on the hit list of all the school bullies in this god-forsaken town. He didn’t get in anybody’s way, he didn’t seek out attention; all he wanted was to get through the last month of junior year and the full year as a senior and leave for California. 

With a heavy groan, Misha crawls out of the under the staircase and throws the trash away. He walks to the bathroom to wash up the milk dripping from his hair. For a largely populated school, the hallways were thankfully always empty. But sometimes the emptiness came with a disadvantage when it came to being confronted by bullies. Robert already did his damage for this morning; meaning the only other person who Misha had to worry about is Michaels. He pretends the world revolves around him, all high and mighty. He takes pleasure on beating defenseless kids up in the alley and takes pride on the fear he creates around him. So in other terms, he was a complete and utter asshole. 

Throughout his thought process, Misha didn’t even realize he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, with his hands tightly gripping the stained porcelain sink. Glaring at his reflection, he turns on the faucet and ducks his head into the ice-cold water. The water runs down his hair, dripping light brown into the sink. The sharp feeling of the cold envelops his head and he knows he will be sporting a headache for the next hour. 

After a considerable amount of time, Misha finally surfaces up out of the stream of water. Looking back at his reflection, the dark brown hair drenched and dripping onto his reddened nose. He decides that nothing else could be done about his state, so he moves to rush out the door. As he is walking out, he suddenly, almost, crashes into someone. But it wasn’t just someone; it was the king of the school. Jensen Ackles: quarterback and captain of the football team, pitcher of the baseball team, top of his class, and, to make it worse, the nicest guy in the entire school. 

“Oh, sorry!” Jensen apologizes profusely. “Almost crashed into you.” 

“It’s okay.” Misha replies in a quiet voice. Ever since he moved to this town, he had developed a crush on Jensen. He was good looking from afar, but now that he’s up close, good looking was an understatement. His eyes were green, not the fake bright green contacts that many people have worn, his were a deep green with golden specks and when the lighting changed, Misha was sure they turned into a hazel. His hair was a light brown and the freckles, those wonderful freckles that not only coat his cheeks but his nose, his eyelids, and almost all of his face. He’s not good looking. He is beautiful. 

“Hey, man, you okay?” Jensen asks as he scrunches up his eyebrows. 

“Uh…yeah…” Misha slowly says as he watches Jensen’s hand come up to his hair. 

“You got something in your hair.” Jensen states, as he picks out the thing and shows it to both of them. “Pepperoni?” 

“I, um, eat with my hair.” Misha quickly jokes in embarrassment. 

Jensen’s lips, which are red and attractively plump, widen, forming a bright smile. He shoots the piece of pepperoni into the trash and wipes his hand on his jeans. 

“You’re funny.” He chuckles, looking right into Misha’s eyes. “What’s your name?” 

“M—“ Misha starts quietly. 

“Jackles! Guess what!” A boy with long shaggy hair comes in and slaps Jensen on his back. “Gen said yes when I asked her to go out with me.” 

“Wait, Genevieve Cortese? The youngest horse-riding champion in this school!” Jensen exclaims, diverting his attention to the other boy. “No fucking way, Jared.” 

Misha gulps and quietly moves to the bathroom door to get out of the way. Even talking to Jensen was a huge deal, it’s not like he would actually want to know his name. 

“Yep!” Misha hears Jared enthusiastically pips from the bathroom. 

That was probably the last time he’d ever talk to Jensen. He should have known Jared was going to be there. Those two are joined to the hip. Jared, the captain of the baseball team and defense on the football team, is always going to be with his best friend. But this luxury of talking and seeing Jensen up close was probably a miracle for Misha. He’s never going to forget his smile, his eyes, and his freckles. 

This thought process about Jensen is halted when he reaches his drama class’s door. He heard that Mr. Sheppard is a European teacher who takes acting as seriously as possible. Shoving Jensen into the back of his mind, he enters the room hoping for his passion in acting to be enlightened. 

*** 

Mr. Sheppard, who likes to be called Mark, spoke in a European accent as he talked through the syllabus and what he expected from the students. His dry humor and sarcastic comments made the class seem fun and exciting. Misha sat in the very back next to the only open seat in the room. It wasn’t unusual that no one would sit next to him, but it did build a deeper hole in his heart. 

“Sorry I’m late, Mark.” A familiar voice calls out. 

Misha’s head shoots up to see Jensen apologetically smiling at Mark. His heart does a summersault when he realizes the only open seat was next to him. He’s not sure if he wants Jensen to sit next to him but talking to him again would be wonderful. 

Jensen recognizes the open seat and starts to make his way back. But a girl pushes off another girl from her seat and calls Jensen over to sit with her. Misha drops his head and tries to shoo the nauseating feeling in his stomach. 

“Anyone sitting here?” The girl asks in a quiet voice. 

Misha shakes his head. _Not anymore_. 

“Okay, so everyone knows that the drama department is hosting the show _Pippin_.” Mark proceeds with his class. “I just want to let you know, it’s extra credit if you participate but it is not mandatory. The sign up sheets are going to be on the table and the last day to sign up for auditions is September 21st.” 

Acting is something Misha likes to do. Whether it was for fun or just to survive, acting is part of his life. Putting on a fake smile to hide his pain on the inside was easy to do. Maybe, he thought, maybe he’ll get better through this passion. 

Once the bell rings, he realizes his paper was filled doodles of animals. Not normal animals but a mixture of animals. A hybrid of an octopus and elephant was on the right corner, right next to the word _Jensen_. Misha didn’t realize he wrote his name during his strain of thought. Shaking his head, he shoves his notebook into his ragged backpack and shoves his way out of the classroom. 

Two more periods until he free from his personal hellhole. His next class, astronomy, is all the way across the school. For a school that is filled with rich people, they had to add weird trailer type things across the school campus for the extra classes. He strides across the field trying to peacefully get to class. A few meters from him, he notices Robert and his gang sitting on the blocks of cement. His converse had two holes right above his right pinky toe and left big toe. Maybe he’ll ask his dad for some money, if he’s home. 

“Hey, fucktard!” Robert sneers from the sides. “Where you off too?” 

Misha remembers his mom saying something about how bullies want reactions. Maybe if he doesn’t answer, they’ll leave him alone. But of course, he can’t shut his goddamn mouth. 

“I’m off to Heaven. I just wanted to make sure the big man upstairs sends you to Heaven at the end of your life.” Misha widely smiles. “I just want to keep you guys as comfortable as possible.” 

“Excuse me?” Cody growls, getting up to walk towards him. 

“Do you need me to call your doctor about the small hearing loss too?” He replies with an act of sincerity. 

“Fucking weirdo.” Cody snarls and gets right up to Misha’s face. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

“Well, I’d like to think so.” Misha looks up at him with a grin. 

In a swift movement, Misha’s shirt is bunched up and he struggles to keep balanced on his toes. Cody’s threatening expression makes his heart sink down to his stomach. He remembered the first time he got beat up when he moved here. Robert had pushed him against the brick in an alley when he was walking back home. He sported a black eye for a week and of course his Dad was out performing with his band that month. He was alone at home and all he could do cry himself to sleep that night. 

If he goes home today with shiner, his Dad is going to freak. He can’t have his father knowing that he isn’t getting along with his classmates at school. He has enough to worry about. And by some miracle, Brad whispers that some girl is walking towards them. Not wanting to make a scene, Cody lets go of Misha and gives him one last menacing glare before walking off the opposite direction. 

“Thanks for the talk guys!” Misha waves and gets three middle fingers in return. 

The girl who was walking towards them was the same one who sat next to him in Drama. He doesn’t know how he missed the bright red hair last class, because that was something no one would miss. 

She stops right in front of him and asks, “Were those guys messing with you?” 

“Nah, they just need satisfaction that they are still straight white men who have a lot of power.” Misha shrugs. “Happy for their service.” 

“You’re funny.” She smiles brightly. “I’m Felicia.” 

“Misha.” 

“Nice. We both have weird unique names.” She brings up her fist and Misha stares at it. “Come on, fist bump me” 

He looks at her quizzically and brings up his own fist to bump her fist. No one’s been this nice to him at this school. Not including Jensen. But Jensen is just nice. He’s hot. He’s nice. He makes Misha absolutely hopeless. 

“What class are you going to?” Felicia asks while pulling him along to walk to the classes. 

“Um.” Misha stammers. _Is he making a friend?_ “Astronomy.” 

“Oh.” Felicia frowns. “I’m going to Creative Writing. But at least our classes are next to each other!” 

“Yeah.” Misha nods. He’s making a friend and he feels good about it.


	2. Trigger to My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers:  
> >self-harm thoughts  
> >self-hatred throughts  
> >Bullying  
> >Depression

When Misha got home, which looked more like a shack rather than a house, it was crawling with all of his Dad’s band mates. He pushes through to the kitchen and sees his father playing one of his old guitars with a beer bottle lid. He laughs along with his mate about something provocatively funny. 

“Hey, Dad.” Misha plasters on a smile. He gets a wave and a smile from him before he focuses back on writing new lyrics. 

Misha sneaks a bottle of beer from the counter and swiftly strides away to his small room. He drops his bag on the side of his bed and sits down on the edge. Looking around his room, he realizes he only has two personal items: his mother’s shawl and a small knife. 

Misha opens the bottle of beer and takes a sip. Scrunching his nose at the bitter taste, he sighs and keeps drinking. Misha doesn’t know if he’s glad that he’s a lightweight or not. On one hand, he can get drunk with his mind racing through all his thoughts a hundred miles an hour and on the other, he can forget his loneliness faster. He thinks about the flourishing friendship with Felicia. Why would she want to be friends with a loner like him, even if it was just a friendship that was based on walking from one class to another? 

Most of all Misha thinks about Jensen. He thinks about his smile, his eyes, his freckles, which remind him of stars, and his laugh. He thinks about the small interaction they had in the bathroom that day and this was bad. He barely knows him and his emerging crush is getting way out of hand. There was no way Jensen would like him back. He doesn’t even know if he’s interested in boys, let alone someone like him.

He gulps the last drop of the beer and places it on the ground. His head felt foggy and heavy. His vision is blurry and every time he closes his eyes he sees a forest of green. Constellations fill up mind as he lies down on his bed and falls asleep.

*** 

A sweet melody awakens Misha from his slumber. He blinks his eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting in his room. A soft threading of fingers massages his head. He looks up through his tired eyes and sees locks of sandy brown hair and kind blue eyes looking down at him. 

“Mom?” Misha whispers. 

His mother hums and places a kiss on his forehead, “Your father left for his tour an hour ago.” 

Misha shoots up out of her arms in panic, “I missed to say goodbye?” 

His dad came to visit for a few days and when he leaves he doesn’t comeback for either a year or longer. Perks of living on the road, Misha guesses. But he didn’t know he was going to leave today. 

“It’s okay. He came in and said goodbye.” She sooths, “By the way, aren’t you too young to be drinking beer, young man?” 

“I-um…” Misha goes quiet. 

“It’s okay, just be careful.” She says. “I’m going out for tonight.” 

“Wait. Where are you going?” Misha asks with a shaky voice. He knows where she’s going and she might not be home for a few days. She always tries to hide the fact that she goes to crack houses and gets high for days. But he knows better. 

“Just a friend’s house.” She softly smiles at him while picking up the empty beer bottle. “I’ll be back.” 

Misha stares intently at the back of his mother’s head, trying to memorize everything about her. This might be the last time he sees her, who knows? Once she leaves his room. He closes his eyes to imprint her voice and her face into his eyelids. 

A few minutes later, Misha gets out of bed and pads down to the kitchen, if you could call it a kitchen anymore. Empty bottles are scattered all around and the garbage bag smells like rotten Mexican food. With a deep sigh, he starts cleaning the place up in efforts to forget his father was even here. 

Finding a pile of broken glass, Misha leans down to pick it up and gasps in pain. The cut on his finger oozes dark red as he stares at it with a pained expression. The blood slides down his finger, as his head feels all fuzzy while staring at it. The sensation of the prick triggers flashbacks to two weeks ago when he had a breakdown and cut into his thighs. That night was terrible and frightening for him. He found his mother passed out on the floor in the kitchen with a needle in her arm. Some kind of drug was in her system, and he didn’t even know what to do. Misha had freaked out and helped her into her bed with eyes filled tears and voices in his head blaming him for her state. 

When he gets back to the present, Misha’s cheeks are stained with tears and his mind is screaming that _everything is his fault_. His mother’s addiction, his father abandoning him every year, the fact that he was even born into this world; everything was his fault. 

Misha back up against the wall and slides down to the ground. He bunches up his hand into a fist and lets the blood flow onto his palm. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting more tears slide down his face. He strangles out a sob, as he feels worse and worse about himself. He shouldn’t have let his mom go again. He should have begged his father to stay. 

He stays on the dirty floor for what feels like a few hours but only a few minutes until he shakes his head and gets up to the sink, washing off his hand. He opens a drawer where the first aid kit stays and takes the last alcohol swab and a _Tom & Jerry_ Band-Aid. 

Misha finishes cleaning the kitchen up, he looks at the clock and checks the time. Five more hours till he has to leave for the dreaded school and he still has a ton of homework to do. Quickly making himself a PB&J, he sits down with his notebook and starts his prep-sheet for the sociology project he’s assigned. 

*** 

He’s late. 

Two minutes till class starts and he’s still a block away from the school. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep doing his homework. Maybe he should have gotten caffeinated. But that’s the past for Misha. Right now he needs to run. First period is his favorite class; he can’t miss sociology. Mr. Benedict is very understanding but being late is, in his own words, “intolerable”. 

Misha turns the corner, taking a shortcut through the small alley way near the school where the janitor’s entrance is. But in the way was Michaels, the big surly guy who everyone is scared of. Sure, Misha’s encountered him before last year but today was not the day to meet him. 

“Look who it is.” Michaels grins, reminding Misha of the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. “It’s the fag.” 

Misha pants, as he was out of breath from running for 2 miles. He scrunches up his eyebrows, as he tightens his fists. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He just wants a peaceful morning. 

Just then, Robert and his gang come out from a corner. They look from Michaels to Misha, knowing what would be happening. Cody lurches forward and grab’s Misha’s backpack and throws it into a trashcan next to the dumpster. Robert and Michaels roll up their sleeves and stare at him with a dangerous look. 

Misha gulps, and tries to smile at the lot of them, “Hey, it’s a good morning, right?” 

“Shut your cock sucking mouth.” Brad growls and throws a rock at Misha’s face; luckily he deflects it with his arms. 

“This is going to go one of two ways.” Michaels sneers. “One, you’re going to give us all the money you have in your pockets and we’ll let you go on your merry way. Or, two, we’ll forcefully take it from you and leave you to rot in the dumpster like the trash you are.” 

Misha didn’t want to deal with them today so he picked the better of the two options. Pulling his wallet out of his bag, he shoves the two dollars he has into Cody’s hand. He turns to the trashcan to get his backpack but two hands grab the back of his sweater and he’s shoved up against the brick wall. 

“Two dollars?!” Cody bellows. 

“That’s all I have. “ Misha cries in pain. “I swear.”

“Well, if that’s all you have…” Robert snorts. “I guess we’ll have to just leave you alone.” 

“Yeah, right.” Michaels grabs the back of Misha’s hair and pull him towards him and back at the wall. 

Misha cries out, feeling the brick scrape his cheek. A foot collides with the back of his leg and he collapses to the ground. Turning around on the ground, the four students surround him, with darkness clouding their expressions and then they begin kicking into Misha’s stomach. 

Through grunts and gasps of extreme pain, Misha tries to remember the sound of his mothers voice when he woke up. But it wasn’t coming to him. He couldn’t remember the voice of his mother’s because his head was filled by the voices of hatred. 

“Well, I guess that’s enough for today.” Michaels comments. “Tomorrow, I plan do even worse. You hear that, faggot? Worse.” 

Brad leans down and picks up Misha and with the help of Cody, he’s pushed into the dumpster. The smell of rotten trash envelops his nostrils as he hears the boy’s laughter going to the distance. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move a muscle. There is no use of even moving because what’s is the point of life when hate is all he is given. He’s a loser. He’s a _piece of shit_ who deserves to be surrounded by this trash because he’s _fucking trash._

Who cares about him? 

Not his parents. 

He has no friends. 

He has no one. 

No one.


	3. Spirit in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger:  
> > Self harm

It seems like hours have passed by and Misha is still in the dumpster. His entire body is numb and he stares blankly at the blue sky above him. It no longer mattered if he was left here for dead. It would be easier for the world. Music starts blaring from outside, the upbeat sounds catches Misha’s attention as he listens to the ironic lyrics. 

_Prepare yourself you know it’s a must_  
_Gotta have a friend in Jesus_  
_So you know that when you die_  
_He’s gonna recommend you_  
_To the spirit in the sky_

Scoffing, Misha rolls his eyes at the sky above him. The spirit in the sky is having the best time with his fate. Whose in the right mind will help a poor boy in the midst of the Texan heat? All of a sudden a grunt escapes his lips as he feels a black plastic bag hit a developing bruise on his stomach. 

“Woah, what?” A voice from outside calls out, and with a click the music stops. “Is someone in the dumpster?” 

“Um…” Misha tries to think of an excuse. “No. It’s just the ghost of trashes past.” 

“Okay, kid.” Misha hears a suppressed laugh, “Come out of there.” 

He groans as he gets up on the uneven ground of trash bags and climbs over the dumpster onto the ground. Looking up at the man who caught him in the dumpster. He’s wearing a grey jumpsuit on with a white patch on the right side of his chest, with green cursive righting that spells out _Speight_. He’s the janitor. Misha’s seen him around the school, not doing his job but blatantly flirting with his sociology teacher. 

“So, you going to tell me what you were doing in the trash?” Speight crosses his arms trying to show dominance but the smirk on his face shows he’s just extremely amused. 

“I thought I could get a really nice fragrance for a new cologne.” Misha smiles widely, but not reaching his eyes. “Trash: A white guy’s perfect way to attract girls.” 

Speight shakes with laughter and grasps Misha’s shoulder. Grimacing at the painful feeling, Misha pulls away as a reflex. The janitor recognizes the action and his expression immediately changes from laughter to concern. He looks at Misha’s face, seeing dried blood on his lip, a blooming blackness on his left cheek and a cut on his eyebrow. 

“Okay, you need to go to the nurse’s.” Speight says with a serious face, “And the principal’s.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Misha panics, “I don’t need—“ 

“Yes, you do.” Speight interjects and points to the door to the back of the school. “I don’t want to be held responsible if you die of internal bleeding because I bet there are more bruises under that god awful sweater.” 

Misha looks down at his black sweater with a picture of a cat with a boom box. What was wrong with his sweater? He bought it at a fair in Boston and it was really popular. Sighing, he follows the janitor into the building with a sickening feeling in his stomach. 

*** 

The nurse’s office smelled like puke and rubbing alcohol. A girl with brown hair was at the first desk and slightly smiles at him out of politeness. Speight’s sitting in an identical chair next to him as he types on his cellphone, as they wait for the nurse to call them in.

“Misha?” 

He glances up at Mr. Benedict who had his hand on his hips and a stern expression. Suddenly his hands feel clammy and he couldn’t look at him in the face. He really wanted to keep good reputation about himself in the eyes of his sociology professor, especially when one of his passions was to learn more about people and societies. Knowing he missed his class on the second day of school, that reputation just went down the drain. 

“Hey, Rob.” Speight sits up and beams. “Looking good.” 

“Thanks, Rich.” Rob mumbles with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Anyway, Misha, can you explain why you weren’t in class today?” 

Misha shrugs and opens his mouth to answer but Rich beats him to it, “I found him in the dumpster in the back, either he pissed of some kids or he’s got a big red target on his back.” 

“What?” Rob exclaims. “I’m going to go get the principal.” 

“No, please don’t.” Misha begs. He doesn’t want to start drama. It’s the last year and as long as he survives through the end of May, he’ll be fine. Getting the attention of the school is the last thing he wants. If the school knows, his parents will know. They don’t need the pressure of his problems. 

“Are you sure?” Rob knees down. “Because if you are being threatened at this school, you can do something about it. You don’t need to live like this.” 

“I’m sure.” Misha firmly states. “I don’t want the school involved.” 

The girl from behind the desk comes up to them and shyly says, “The nurse is ready to see you.” 

“Thank you, Gen.” Rob nods at her. “He’ll be right over.” 

“Mr. Benedict, I did my homework but it’s in my backpack which is in one of the trash bins.” Misha tries to avert the conversation because he knows he will never let this down. 

“I’ll go get that for you.” Rich offers. “Rob, do you want to help me find it?” 

Rob sighs while staring at Misha, hoping he’d speak up for himself. “Yeah, I will. Misha, when Nurse Ruth is treating you, think about talking to the principal. Just think about it.” 

Getting up quickly, he nods and walks off to the nurse’s room. The pungent hospital smell heightens as he notices a woman with red hair with a white coat. He closes the door quietly as he puts his weight on his right leg, lessening the pressure off his injured leg. 

“Hi, my name is Ruth. Sit down.” She warmly smiles and points to the bed that had the paper on it. 

Misha walks over and sits on the smooth paper and noisily crinkles it. The room was so quiet; he could hear the clock ticking. He watches the nurse write on her clipboard for a while, waiting for her to speak. 

“Okay, Misha. How are you feeling right now?” She asks softly. 

“Um. A little in pain but nothing I can’t handle.” Misha answers with a shrug. 

“Hmm.” She hums. “I’m going to look at the wounds on your face and then after, I’ll need to look at your skin under your sweater. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Misha bites his lower lip. He doesn’t want her to see his arms that would come up with a bunch of other questions that he doesn’t want to answer. 

The nurse washes her hands and wears purple latex gloves. She takes some alcohol wipes and begins cleaning the two wounds on his face. 

“I’m here to listen if you want to talk about what happened.” She says as she applies a cream on his lip and his eyebrow. 

Misha stays quiet for a long time. The voice of Mr. Benedict nags him but at the same time the other voices in his head tells him that no one will care, that there is no point to speak out. With a deep sigh, he opens his mouth but shuts it quickly. He was at loss of words; maybe he shouldn’t let anyone know. 

“I wanted to fight Oscar the Grouch from _Sesame Street_. Turns out he’s super strong.” Misha jokes. 

“I bet he is.” The nurse smiles, “Do you want to talk to the principal about him?” 

“No. It’s okay.” Misha deflects. “He was just having a bad day.” 

Ruth finishes up with his face by giving him an ice pack to place on his cheek. She takes his hands and pushes up his sleeves to get a better look at his skin. Misha closes his eyes shut, not wanting to see her face when she sees the scars on his forearms. 

“Misha, have you been harming yourself.” Ruth carefully asks. 

“I-“ Misha pulls his hands out of hers and pulls down his sleeves, hiding the evidence. “No. I just hurt myself while trying to get a pencil that was stuck between my bed and wall. My arm got stuck and that’s how…” 

He stops talking as he notices the disbelief of this made up story he tries to sell. Hugging himself, he tries to make himself small in the room to the point he hopes he disappears. 

“You should talk to someone.” She explains. “Self harm is a difficult thing to admit to but there are councilors here that are available to help you through this. You don’t have to hide it.” 

Misha looks away, not wanting to talk about this, “Can you please just check my other bruises so I can go to my drama class? It’s almost time.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Ruth looks at him with pity. “I’m going to have to call your parents. We can’t let you go until they know.” 

“No. My dad’s not in town and my mom’s busy.” Misha widens his eyes as he quickly explains. “They don’t need to know. Please, please don’t tell them.” 

“It’s protocol.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. We do need to let them know.” 

“I’ll tell them when I get home. I swear.” Misha pleads. “Scout’s honor.” 

“How about I send them a message so you can get to class?” Ruth offers, showing him her clipboard. “This is your home phone number, right?” 

Misha looks at the clipboard and nods. His mom won’t be home tonight so he has enough time to fake an email to the school and delete the message off the voicemail. Everything will be fine. They won’t find out about his predicaments. He lets her call his house and explain what she had found. After, Ruth finishes up with her assessment and lets him leave for class, which he was already late for. 

Walking out of the office, he sees the girl laughing along with Jared. She looks up at him and waves goodbye. Jared turns to him and his eyes brows shoot up. 

“Damn, you’ve got a nice shiner going on.” Jared smirks. “Who’d you beat up?” 

“Oscar the Grouch.” Misha replies. 

Jared snorts a laugh and turns back to the girl and carries on his conversation. 

“So, Gen, about this weekend.” Jared leans over the desk as he flirts away with Gen, leaving Misha to walk out the office. “There is a nice burger place in town.”

“Oh, wait. Misha? Misha, right?” Gen calls after him. 

“Um… yes?” He says with befuddlement. Why is she talking to him? 

“The janitor dropped off your backpack.” She informs, pointing to the backpack on the chair he was sitting on an hour ago. 

“Oh, um. Thank you.” He nods, picking up his backpack and leaving the office. 

*** 

Outside Mark’s classroom, Misha takes a deep breath hoping it wouldn’t be bad. He opens the door and it squeaks really loudly, stopping Mark’s lecture as the entire class turns to look at him. Immediately looking down at blue and white laminate floors, he shuffles toward his teacher, handing him a pink piece of paper. 

“Ah, nurse’s office.” Mark acknowledges. “Explains the cuts and bruises on your face and tardiness.” 

Misha looks up at the rest of the room and his eyes meet the green eyes he had dreamt about last night. Jensen’s eyes flicker over his face and his pink lips formulate a frown. Misha’s gaze looks away and swiftly walks to the back of the classroom and sits down next to Felicia. He can’t believe Jensen saw him in this state. Who knows what he thinks about him! Loser? Weak? A goddamn disgrace? 

“Yo, dude, what’s with the smell?” Felicia whispers loudly. 

“I took a bath in the dumpster behind the school.” Misha replies and winces as he tries to smile with the cut on his lip. 

“Yeah, I heard that’s the new trend.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Who gave you the makeover? Those boys from yesterday?” 

“Eh, I don’t know if I like it though.” Misha shrugs. “I don’t think blue and purple is my color.” 

“Why?” Felicia drops the humorous atmosphere and turns it into concern. 

Misha looks down the row and sighs, “Probably the whole thing with me liking boys.” 

“You’re gay?” Felicia gasps, and Misha winces at the idea of her leaving him. “Dude, me too. Girls are my thing! Don’t tell anyone though, as you know this school does not like our type.” 

“Yep, I noticed.” Misha exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“We’ll stick together.” She encourages. 

Misha smiles and nods in agreement. He doesn’t want to bring her into his messed up life, but knowing he’s not alone kind of makes him feel a little better, just a little. He turns his head to pay attention to Mark setting up a video about modern theatre. His eyes wander to Jensen, whose body was swiveled to the side, staring at him. A blush paints his cheeks, as Jensen quickly looks away who is also sporting the same color on his cheeks. Why was he staring at him? And was that a blush? Questions arise in his mind as he looks down at his fingernails, picking at a hangnail. 

Even if this day started out horrible, Jensen’s face made him feel better. Why? Because his heart is stupid and jumps at the sight of Jensen’s beauty. He’s stupid. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up. He gets beat up and Jensen doesn’t deserve fucking trash like him. Misha shakes his head and focuses back on the screen in front of the classroom, watching a modern version of Hamlet, trying not to think about a particular boy with green eyes whose sitting a few seats in front of him.


	4. Smoothing Over Black and Blue

The class shuffles out of the classroom as Misha and Felicia pack their stuff up while laughing about their awful mock up of Act II of Hamlet. Misha fumbles with his notebook, while holding back a snort, and drops it to the floor. The page where Jensen’s name was decorated with hearts and blue flowers was exposed. Felicia’s eyes widen then raises her eyebrow at him. Quickly picking it up, Misha shoves it in his backpack and shakes his head at her, indicating to drop the subject.

“Really?!” Felicia squeaks. “I mean I don’t blame you. If I wasn’t into chicks, I’d be all over him, too.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen.” Misha mutters. 

Felicia looks at him in pity and pokes him in the side, in attempts to make him laugh. Jumping up, he moves out of the way with a smile on his face. He lightly flicks her hand away and slings his backpack over his shoulder and they start their journey to get to the other side of school. 

“Misha.” Mark calls from his desk. “I want to speak with you.” 

Felicia and Misha share a curious look. She shrugs her shoulders and lets him know she’ll wait for him outside. Nervously going up to Mark, he clasps his hands together. The teacher is writing out a slip for both him and Fecicia, just incase they’re late for their next class. It’s a kind thing to do. Once he’s done he looks up at Misha and hands him a flyer for auditions for _Pippin_. 

“I saw you working with Felicia today and I was quite impressed with your expressions and voice control. You showed the pain in Hamlet’s face and played both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern really, really well.” Mark explains, “I thought you’d play a great roll in the play. I don’t cast the rolls but Robbie Thompson, the coordinator of the play might also respect your talent.” 

“I…um…” Misha is at loss of words. This was completely unexpected. 

“Think about it, okay?” Mark emphasizes on his words. 

“Okay. I will.” Misha takes the flyer and walks out the classroom. 

Felicia is leaning against the green plastered wall with headphones in her ears. He pokes her shoulder and passes the late pass to her. 

“Oh, cool.” She grins. “That’s nice of him. What did he want?”

“He thought I should go audition for the play.” Misha answers, showing her the flyer. 

“You should.” She points out. “You’re really good at acting.” 

“But you’ve only seen me act once.” 

“Yeah, but you’re good.” She pulls him along outside the school. 

They step together in a comfortable silence. But it didn’t last long. Just ahead, Robert and his gang were sitting on the cement blocks, smoking cigarettes. Cody looks up and a feral smile emerges on his lips. He elbows Brad and nods toward Felicia and him. Misha moves to get in-between the group and Felicia. The worst thing to happen is for her to get hurt because of him. 

“Hey, aren’t those—“ Felicia whispers. 

“Yeah, just keep walking.” Misha interrupts. “If they stop me, keep walking.” 

“Hell no!” Felicia exclaims with a determined frown. “I’m not leaving you. No man left behind in this war.” 

“Felicia, please, no.” Misha pleads as he avoids looking at the lineup of his bullies. 

Robert scoffs, “Look at that, boys. Loser’s got a girl.” 

“Thought he was a fag.” Cody snickers. 

“Bet, she doesn’t know.” Brad joins in. “Hey, redhead, you know he’s a cock sucker?” 

Cody bursts out laughing, “Bet he likes to do it in his ass! He’d probably bend over for anyone.” 

Felicia stops in her tracks and swiftly turns around. She looks at the three of them with hard unwavering eyes. Just when she’s about to tell them to fuck off Misha grabs her by the elbow and pulls her toward their classes. 

“Yeah, faggot! Run away!” Robert yells, “Like the weak loser you are!” 

Once they were a few meters away from the gang of knuckleheaded assholes, probably not the best name Misha had for them but it’ll do, Felicia rips her hand away and crosses her arms. 

“Why the didn’t you let me stand up for you?” She furrows her eyebrows and frowns deeply. “Those fucking assholes deserve to be taught a lesson.” 

“It’s not worth it.” He sighs, looking down at his shoes. 

“Why?” Felicia lightly puts a hand on his shoulder. “They’re bullies and they—” 

“Anything you do with them.” Misha swallows. “You can stand up to them, you can ignore them, you can do everything to get their attention off of you but they won’t stop. Trust me. I know.” 

“But—“ She starts to protest. 

“It’s not worth it.” Misha runs a shaky hand through his dark brown hair. “I just hope they don’t target you because you’re hanging out with me.” 

“Whatever, I can take care of myself.” Felicia pretends to show off her biceps and triceps. “I don’t care.” 

“I do though.” Misha sadly smiles. 

“Hey, don’t you dare push me away.” Felicia waves her finger at him. “Hells to the no.” 

“Bu—“ Misha tries to argue but gets flicked on his right arm. 

“No.” She stubbornly says and squints her eyes at him in efforts to challenge him to fight. He backs off the topic and holds his hands up in surrender. 

“That’s right.” Felicia nods and smiles. “Anyway, see you tomorrow!” 

Misha watches her run off to her room as he shakes his head in endearment and walks to his own class. He doesn’t know how or why he got so lucky to meet Felicia but he’s glad he did. Yet, he worries his bottom lip as he sits down in astronomy. Robert and his gang won’t attack her. They’ll stay away from her but if Michaels finds out about her… No. He can’t let Michaels know him and Felicia are friends. He can’t get her mixed up in his shit. 

*** 

The hallway next to the theatre is empty. The table in the front holds a tray of papers and a box for signing up for the play. Misha fumbles with the flyer in his hands and shifts side to side on his feet. Maybe he should sign up. What’s the harm? It’d be better than going home afterschool everyday and being worried if his mother is out or not. But what if she’s needs his help like that one day? 

Huffing a breath, Misha crumples up the flyer into a ball and throws it in the trash. There is no point. Maybe he can act but dancing and sing? He can’t do that. All he can sing is his mother’s lullabies and his father’s songs. And dancing? He trips over his own feet, dancing is the last thing he can do. 

He’s about to walk away when he hears Jensen’s voice down the hallway. Since when did he recognize his voice? Quickly hiding behind a pillar, Misha watches Jensen laugh along with Jared. He notices the way Jensen’s head drops and shakes his head as Jared’s face lights up. His right hand was in his pocked and the other was holding on to some of his football gear. 

“That’s awful, man.” Jensen snorts. “One of your worst jokes yet.” 

“Gen thought it was great.” Jared defends. 

“That’s because she’s distracted by that mane of yours.” Jensen says, emphasizing his point by taking off Jared’s beanie. 

“Whatever man.” Jared waves off. “We’re going to Tipsy Cow’s this weekend.” 

“Wow, I know you said she’d go out with you but I thought you were joking.” Jensen fakes a gasp, bringing his hand up to his chest, mocking disbelief. 

“Ha. Ha.” Jared rolls his eyes. “Very funny. Just sign up for your musical so we can get to practice. Coach Cliff said he’d make us do a 5k if we’re late again.” 

“He’d never do that.” Jensen waves off while writing his name on the sign up sheet. “He loves us too much.” 

“True. But I want to get there on time.” Jared impatiently says. 

“You just want to get there so you can talk to Gen.” Jensen snorts. 

“Hey!” Jared exclaims. “In my defense, Gen looks great in the cheerleading uniform.” 

“There. I’m done.” Jensen puts his paper in the box. 

“Finally, took forever.” Jared exasperates and starts walking away. 

Misha lets out a sigh as he watches the two boys walk away. Jensen also acts. How much perfect can he get? And he’s such a coward, hiding behind a pillar so he doesn’t have to be face to face with Jensen. Especially not Jared, he doesn’t need to recognize him as the boy with the shiner. 

Once the two were out of site, Misha moves from his spot and stands in front of the table. What if he signed up? What if Jensen and could talk one day? Maybe he’s not into boys but he seems like a friend type. He’s always nice and kind. He’s a wonderful person. Misha takes a pen out of pocket and takes a sheet to write on. His hand hovers over the line that requires his name. Fuck it. Misha writes down his name and all the required information. Worst comes to worst, Jensen ignores him like the rest of the school. Well, except for Felicia. Maybe he has a chance at this school after all. 

Placing the sheet in the box, Misha’s about to turn away when he notices an ID card. The name _Jensen Ackles_ is printed neatly and his picture, damn his picture, Jensen is literally the face of God. Even with the awful school photo lighting, his hair has a perfect brown look with slight dark blonde highlights. His eyes shine brightly and Misha can imagine the hazel spots in the field of green on the poor quality of the picture. The thing he noticed the most was his smile. Jensen’s smile can kill and fill your heart with warmth, all at the same time. Misha strokes his thumb over the side of the picture, wishing it were the real deal. 

Realizing Jensen probably needs his ID, Misha runs outside the door to see if he can catch up with the two. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be seen. Going back inside, he debates whether to keep it on the table or turn it into the lost and found. If he leaves it anyone could take it but Jensen could also come back to get it. If he turns it into the lost and found, the office might just keep it on the front desk for a day and then throw it away. The only option to make sure Jensen gets it is to give it to him when he’s at practice. 

Suddenly, the door behind Misha opens and Jensen comes in huffing. He’s wearing a green jersey with a yellow number 8 written on it. Their eyes meet and Jensen takes a step closer. His eyes flutter down to the card in Misha’s hands and then back up to his eyes. It seems like Jensen was diving into Misha’s eyes. Like he’s trying to solve the puzzle of the stranger with blue eyes. 

“Hey.” Jensen finally breaks the silence. 

“Um…” Misha mumbles, holding out the ID card. “This is yours.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jensen steps forward and wraps his forefinger and thumb around the card. Their fingers touch and Misha quickly lets go of the card like he had touched lightning. 

“I never caught your name yesterday.” Jensen pulls back his hand and shoves the card into the pocket of his shorts. 

“Misha.” He quietly replies. 

“Unique.” Jensen ducks his head, hiding a small smile. “Jensen. I’m Jensen.” 

“I know.” Misha says, immediately realizing what he said he stutters out random sounds. “I- um- no-“ 

Jensen’s lips blossom into a grin, “I hope you’ve heard a good rumors about me.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Misha scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. 

Taking a step back, Jensen is about to leave but stops in his tracks. He looks back at Misha, specifically the bruise on his cheek. Sighing, he walks up to Misha. His face is etched with worry and Misha is frozen, not knowing what Jensen’s doing. They don’t even know each other. He tries to console his heart, that’s beating rapidly, to calm the fuck down because he’s sure Jensen can also hear it pounding through his chest. 

Unexpectedly, Jensen lifts up a hand and hovers it over the bruise. Slowly, he touches it, smoothing the injured skin. Misha’s one hundred percent sure he’s dead. He’s dead and in heaven, like his own personal heaven where it’s just him and Jensen. 

“Who did this to you?” Jensen asks with a gruff voice. 

“No one.” Misha replies in an impulse. 

Misha steps back, creating a distance between them. Jensen’s expression looks like he’d been slapped. His hand was still in mid-air and he blinks in confusion. It seems like this doesn’t happen with him often and Misha looks away, afraid to see anymore of the pained look on his face. 

“Just… if anyone’s bothering you, let me know. I’ll help.” Jensen mumbles before walking away, leaving Misha alone in the middle of the hallway.


	5. Choking Underwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:   
> > Panic Attack   
> > Rape indication/threat/mention  
> > Pedophilia mention   
> (Rape or Pedophilia do not happen, just a mention)

It was about two weeks since Misha’s interaction with Jensen. He tried to avoid him, not wanting any more questions to come up. He ignored his stares during class, and he looked away quickly every time their eyes met. Misha didn’t understand why he cared. Jensen didn’t know him, other than his name. He had no reason to care for a random guy at school. It’s the last year; he’s not going to remember him after they graduated. 

A kick on his shin wakes Misha up out of his daze. Felicia nods to the front of the room where Mark is explaining facial expressions and why they are one of the most important parts of acting. Misha furrows his eyebrows and looks curiously at his friend. She shakes her head and discreetly points toward the front corner, where Jensen sat. Hesitantly, he works himself up to look. But when his gaze meets the area Felicia was indicating, an empty desk surprised him. Jensen never ever skipped Drama class. Not that he couldn’t skip, but the passion he had for this art form was more important to him than anything else. 

Misha turns back to Felicia and he shrugs his shoulders. He didn’t know why she was pointing this out, it’s not like Jensen’s his boyfriend. The voice in the back of his head scoffs, telling him that he wishes he were. A small piece of paper lands on his desk. Misha opens it up to see Felicia’s purple handwriting. _I heard Jensen got into a fight with Michaels_. Misha’s heart stops. The entire world stops for him. Questions zoom past his head. Why was he fighting with Michaels? Did he find out who did this to him? What was going on? 

His hands shake as he slowly gets up from his desk, walking to the door. He grabs the bathroom pass and he lets out a breath when he exits the room. His head starts to hurt and tears threatened to spill. It’s not like he’s the only victim of bullying at this school but its Jensen. The guy, who spent two weeks staring at him, probably was trying to figure out who the fuck beat him up. If Jensen is hurt, it’s his fault. 

Misha keeps walking. He passes the windows that look out the courtyard he walks right out the doors. The fresh air calms him down a bit but his heart was still beating fast and his breathing was shallow. He sits down on the concrete stairs, looking at his hands, trying to stop them from shaking. 

“Misha?” Someone’s voice pierces through his clouded mind. 

He blinks up at dark figure, squinting at the shadow in front of the sun. The man kneels down in front of him and the picture clears up. Mr. Benedict had a concerned expression and Misha lets out a shaky breath. 

“What happened?” His teacher asks with a soft voice. 

“I-I don’t.” Misha hesitates, “Nothing.” 

“Are you having a panic attack?” He asks. 

Misha shakes his head and a sob escapes his mouth. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his teacher but everything is too much. Pulling his knees to his chest, he places his head between them and stays like that. Everything around him becomes static and he feels like he’s getting pulled down the core of the earth. The only faint thought in his head was, “Is Jensen okay?” 

A hand on his back brings back feeling into his body. He looks up from his arms and peers through his tears. Locks of red hair and smooth pale skin speak to him in soft tones. He doesn’t know what the words are, but they make him feel calmer. A clearing opens up and he recognizes the voice as Felicia’s. 

“It’s m-my faul-fault.” Misha finally speaks through his sobs. 

“No, it’s not.” Felicia calmly assures as she sooths him while rubbing his back with her hand. “It’s not your fault.” 

“Bu-but what if he’s h-hurt?” He stutters. 

“He came in class right after you left, Misha.” She replies. “Jensen is not hurt. Apparently it was only a verbal fight about a parking spot.” 

Those words repeat in his head. _Jensen is not hurt_. Thank all the Gods above. Misha finally lets out a relieved sigh and slouches in on himself. His face felt caked with dry and wet tears, his head is pounding and he feels like he could fall asleep any moment. With a shaky hand, he wipes the rest of his tears and tries to stand up. Felicia keeps her hands on his shoulders, steading him as he sways, trying not to collapse to the ground. 

“Are you okay, Misha?” Mr. Benedict asks cautiously. 

“Yes, Mr. Benedict.” Misha replies. “I’m good.” 

“Take the rest of the day off.” He urges. “Go home and go to bed.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Misha shakes his head. “I’m okay.” 

He takes a step forward and brushes himself off. His face turns into a smile that never reaches his eyes and he pushes his sweaty hair back. Felecia hands him his bag and he sends her a grateful look. He doesn’t know what he would do without her. A few weeks ago, he started this school year with no one and now he has Felicia. A girl who says _fuck it_ to the world and becomes friends with the loser at school.   
“Misha, I think you should take Mr. Benedict’s advice.” Felcia softly states. “I think you should take the day off.” 

“No, I’m okay.” Misha shakes his head, looking at her with pleading eyes. 

She nods and wraps an arm around his arm, leading them to their next class. She takes the bathroom pass Misha had held on for dear life and hands it to Rob. Informing him about whose bathroom pass it is, she proceeds towards the small individual buildings. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. 

“Yes.” Misha states with an exasperated tone. He’s too tired to talk any more about his panic attack and all he wants to do is forget it. 

*** 

The sun beats down on his back as he walks on the cracked sidewalk, near his house. Half of the block was filled with houses that have been boarded up, Misha wonders if one of these houses were the drug den where his Mom goes too. He closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze against his face. The memory of watching Jensen at football practice flashes through his mind. 

Right after school, he snuck to the bleachers to see if Jensen was actually okay. Seeing him running around and laughing with his teammates makes him feel better about this whole ordeal. Jensen doesn’t know exactly what happened to him and that’s the way he want’s it to be. They’re not friends. 

Through this thought process, he reaches his front door. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he goes to open his door but the door creaks open. His heart drops to his stomach. The last time this happened, he found his mom on the floor, overdosed on drugs. Taking a few deep breaths, he slowly takes a step inside griping his keys tight in his fist. 

“Mom?” Misha calls out quietly. Please don’t be dead. He doesn’t think he could live with himself if she died. 

He walks into the kitchen hoping to see his mom making food or just sitting on the stool near the counter. Instead, a medium built man was leaning against the counter. The man was on his phone, squinting with a sly smile. Immediately, Misha knew this guy was bad news. He had an eerie feeling about him. He dressed like someone from the other side of town. The tight shirt and a thin scarf around his neck made him look rich. His posture was of dominance. Misha felt small and was scared to speak out. The man finally feels a presence and looks up to see Misha frozen in the doorway. He scoffs and puts his phone away and claps his hands together.   
“Finally, someone is in this goddamn shit of a house.” He declared. “Anyway, where is Alice?” 

“What do you want with mom?” Misha asked. 

“Mom?” The man echoed. “Damn, I knew Alice had a kid but I was hoping it was a girl. I like young girls, if you know what I mean.” 

Misha felt like he just threw up in his mouth. This guy, this sicko won’t stop talking and was still in his house. He needs to leave. All the signs in his brain are flashing red with the word _DANGER_ repeating over and over again. 

“Anyway, tell your mom that Travis came by and wants the money she owes, or else I’m gonna take her son,” The man-Travis- walks towards him and grabs him forcefully by his cheeks, “…and sell him online. And trust me, boy, I may not be into little dicks, but there are a whole lot who would love to see a little twink like you spread out for them to use and abuse to their desire. Some are even into S and M.” 

Travis slaps his cheek lightly and takes out a joint from his pocket, he offers one to Misha but shakes his head. 

“You’re loss. This one was gonna be free for you.” He lights it up and takes a long puff and releases the smoke right on to Misha’s face. “Remember I want that 1K by January and if I don’t, say goodbye to ever finding a nice girl cause you’re gonna be somebody’s bitch.” 

With that, Travis strides out of his house. Panic forms in Misha’s chest again as he reaches for the house phone, trying to reach his mom. And, just like every other time, he reaches voicemail. Slamming the phone back onto the counter, he throws his backpack onto the floor. He falls to the ground, curling up to himself and cries. Because as of right now, there is nothing he can do except cry.


	6. Adding Up Costs

Misha takes about five dollars to school everyday from his dad’s bank, for food. If he skips lunch, then he could have saved up… 65 school days until winter break, so that is about 325 dollars saved. He found 200 dollars in his piggy bank this weekend. So, in total he’ll have 525 dollars. He’s still 475 dollars to somehow come up with before Travis, or Tinnitus because he’s just as bad as constant ringing in the ear, comes back. There is only one solution: he needs a job. There was a coffee shop nearby he took a flyer for, they paid 9 dollars an hour. All he’d need to do is work 64 hours and he’d reach 1K. 

“Dude, Misha, what are you doing?” Felicia questions as she shimmies underneath the staircase. 

“Just some math.” Misha answers. He places his book on the ground and turns to her. “Aren’t you going to sit with your friends?” 

“I am. You’re my friend and I am sitting with you.” She states, taking a bite out of her greasy cheese pizza. “Aren’t you having lunch?” 

“No, I’m not hungry.” Misha lies. His traitorous stomach growls loud enough for her to hear. 

“Really?” Felicia teases, “I think your stomach is thinking otherwise.” 

“I’m just nervous about the auditions for _Pippin_ after school.” Misha nervously stresses. 

“Here, have this yogurt.” She urges, throwing the small carton on his lap. “You gotta eat, man. I finally have a cool friend, I can’t loose you.” 

“I swear, I’m not that cool.” Misha laughs, taking her offering. “I’m super hot though.” 

Felicia snorts on her apple juice that she spits it out on accident. She slaps his arm and shakes her head while chuckling. She mumbles something as she points to the dirty paper napkin and runs out from under the stairs. Misha feels a warm feeling pass over him as he smiles after her. Opening the carton of yogurt, he is about to take a spoonful when a hand reaches out grabs it from his hands. 

Gasping, he looks up and sees Michaels kneeling in front of him, spooning the yogurt into his mouth. The color from his face drains and dread fills up his chest. Michaels never beats him up in school, just outside. Why is he messing with him now? His eyes flicker over to where Felicia is walking back with a napkin in her hand. She’s still far from this scene but she’s getting closer with every second. 

“Thanks, bitch.” Michaels drawls, throwing the trash onto Misha’s lap. “Whose the new chick? She’s hot.” 

“Stay away.” Misha threatens. 

“Oh, damn.” Michaels whistles. “The bitch has a voice! Why? Grow a dick?” 

“Why? You jealous?” Misha taunts. “Because just because you don’t have one, doesn’t mean you need to act like one.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Michaels growls, grabbing Misha by his shirt. “The next time I see you, I’m going to make sure you stay down this time.” 

Letting go, he saunters away. Misha looks after him and sees Felicia’s disgusted expression as a reaction to whatever Michaels had said. She runs over to him and shudders as she sits next to him again. 

“Fucking ass.” She complains. “I swear, one day, he’s going to be down in the ditch while we’re gonna be up in the sky. I count on it.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Misha shrugs. “You’re going to that medieval thing this weekend, what was it?” 

“Oh yeah, it’s called LARPing.” Felicia explains while her face lights up. “It’s going to be so much fun. I’m a knight. Though, I want to be queen one day. You should come too. It’s this entire festival. You don’t have to LARP.” 

“I’ll think about it.” He replies to her invite, “I need to look for a job though.” 

Felicia nods and excitedly explains exactly what is going to happen. With that, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Misha listens to Felicia chatter on about her up coming weekend in joy as they both pack and start walking to class. The great thing about having lunch after 4th period is that there are only two more classes left. 

They both sit down in their chairs, near the back of the room as their conversation switches to the age-old debate of who is right: Iron Man or Captain America. Misha, an avid Iron Man supporter, isn’t going to let Felicia win this one. 

“No but look at from a foreign perspective, why should the rest of the counties support Captain AMERICA.” Misha pushes, “How can one man have so much power and expect the entire world to support him?” 

“I get what you’re saying but when has a group of men in a room every done anything right. We don’t know the agenda they have. At least Steve has a clear mind.” Felica rebuttals. 

“But—“ Misha starts but is distracted by Jensen walking through the door. 

He’s laughing along with a few people as they sit down in their seats. Their eyes meet for a brief second as Jensen turns place his backpack next to his seat. A smile emerges on his lips and nods towards him before turning back to the front. 

“But?” Felicia teases. 

“Shut up.” He mumbles while trying to hide the blush that was forming on his face. 

“You know.” Felcia says with a playful tone, “I bet Jensen is on Captain America’s side. Like look at him. He could play him in a movie.” 

Misha snorts, “If he plays Cap then I’d reconsider my thoughts on the comic.” 

“Wow, you have it bad, buddy.” Felicia laughs as she shakes her head. “How are you going to audition after school with him watching.” 

At this, Misha’s eyes widen and he looks at her with horror. He can’t do that in front of Jensen. Oh my god. He’s going to make a fool out of himself. The little excerpt from _Rent_ he memorized isn’t going to cut it. Maybe if he doesn’t go, it’d be better. If he fails at this, he’s going to have to move to Russia. 

“Misha, you’ll do fine.” Felicia comforts, “Imagine everyone in their underwear…well almost everyone. Don’t imagine Jensen in his underwear.” 

“Felicia, why would you say that?” Misha groans into the palm of his hands. 

His mind goes running. Images of Jensen in various types of underwear pops up and he’s pretty sure he’s probably beet red now. His face is now a tomato and he’s going to be cut up in served in a salad. Boxer briefs, he decides. Jensen would look so goddamn good in boxer briefs. 

His pants suddenly start to feel tight. The image of Jensen in those boxer briefs has turn into Jensen strip teasing him in them. He tries to wish away his boner. He thinks about dead animals. But his mind keeps turning back to the small fantasy he made up. Jensen is in the same room, a few desks down but in the same proximity. And his stupid sexual fantasy is turning him on. Misha shifts in his seat and tries to focus on Mark introducing the topic they’re going to focus on for the next week because that is the only thing he can really do at the moment.


	7. No Point of Denying It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the wait. I'll be in India for the next month so no updates in August. Sorry :(

Misha’s hands were clammy as he stood outside the audition room, which was the theater itself. He survived through class, trying to think of horrible things to calm in goddamn boner down. His last period went by with a breeze, he’d think he’d be learning about stars but since his teacher is off sick, the substitute just made them watch E.T. Not that he was complaining, he practiced his lines in his head for the auditions. 

The good thing about the auditions is that they are private, unlike his old school in Boston. He doesn’t have to worry about messing up and getting embarrassed in front of Jensen. His stupid heart needs to chill because every time he thinks of Jensen, it tries to jump out. He redirects is focus back on remember his lines one more time.

One by one, everyone goes inside and comes out, either with a joyful expression or with a sullen one. Eventually he was the only one waiting outside the room when a brunette was called inside. Hearing the door open, his head snaps to the auditorium but those doors were still closed. A gush of wind explains that the door to the outside had opened and Jensen came tumbling in. 

“Hey, Misha.” Jensen panted. He was still in his football gear, seeming as if he just ran from practice. “I didn’t miss the auditions, right?” 

“No.” Misha softly says while shaking his head. Surprised by his normal-ish behavior, Misha commends himself on not fainting or doing something irrational like running out. 

Jensen strides over next to him and sits down with him on the floor. He slowly takes off his gear, leaving him with a thin jersey and those tight pants. Misha’s hands tighten around the screenplay in his hands as he resists the urge to touch the boy of his dreams next to him. He wasn’t even making it fair especially when stretches out his legs, bowlegs to be exact, and runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, spiking it up. The redness from the heat and exhaust made his freckles stand out even more. 

“Hey…” Jensen starts and clears his throat. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable a few weeks ago. I just don’t like it when people pick on others. Just want to make this is safe school.” 

“It’s okay.” Misha nods his head, understandingly. “But I can take care of myself.” 

“Yeah. But, just so you know you have me—“ Jensen tries to offer. 

“Misha Collins.” The girl who went before him calls out. “It’s your turn.” 

He quickly says thank you, grabs his back and runs into the auditorium. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to listen to Jensen try to offer himself up or disappointed. Misha tries to forget about it. He tries to explain to himself that Jensen would do this for anyone and he’s nothing special. 

Standing in the middle of the stage, he looks into the blank audience, looking for the director. A man, who looked kind, waved at him and motioned him to start. Taking a deep breath, he starts his monologue. It goes flawlessly, besides the first few lines where he stumbled upon his words. Second, he sang the song his mother sang for him. He was okay. High pitched, but not bad. He tried to dance the little dance moves he picked off the Internet, but even he knew he did terrible. 

“Thank you, Misha.” The man said into the microphone. “Keep your eyes out for the callbacks, they should be up in a week or so.” 

“Thank you.” Misha calls out. “Should I call in the next person?” 

“That would be Jensen?” He questions. 

“Yes.” 

“Yep. Call him in.” 

Misha walks out the room, feeling a wave of tension leaving his body. Jensen sits sprawled against the wall, texting or doing something on his phone. He looked beautiful, like always. The doors behind him shut loudly, indicating Jensen that someone came out of the theater. Their eyes meet. A smile erupts on the green-eyed boy and Misha couldn’t resist not giving him a slight smile. 

“It go well?” Jensen asks. 

“Yeah.” Misha breathes. “Your turn.” 

“Great.” Jensen jumps up. “Wish me luck.” 

“Good luck.” Misha replies immediately without any fault. 

Their eyes meet for a second again. Jensen didn’t actually expect Misha to wish him luck. It’s just an expression. It doesn’t matter. But he ducks his head with a smile playing on his lips as he walks into the theater. 

As Misha walks out of the school, his heart is still fluttering from the encounter with Jensen. Everytime he sees that light brown hair, those constellation of freckles, and those mossy green eyes, he falls even deeper in the hole of desire. It’s useless to think anything could happen though. This is Texas. Boys don’t fall in love in Texas. But that isn’t going to stop him from hoping and fantasizing about the southern boy he’s fallen for. 

***

The small shack-like house is once again empty. Misha’s mom stopped by for one day before going out again but he couldn’t get to her on time to tell her about Travis and his threat. All he got was a note that said “Going out for work. Love you, Mom,” and a wad of lunch money cash for the month. Useless. 

Throwing his stuff on the ground he picks up the newspaper he got yesterday to look for jobs. But the headache he had wasn’t helping him concentrate. It was a long day and he needed a break from thinking. So, naturally, he gravitates towards the shower. 

Quickly stripping from his sweaty clothes, he steps into the bath and turns on the faucet. Ice cold-water sprays onto his naked body and he yelps as he moves away. He hated how when he turns on the water and it’s cold instead of warm. What is the point of having hot water if you get sprayed with cold water first? 

Eventually, it warms up and he ducks his head, letting the water soak his hair. The heat from the water met up with the heat he had experience from 5th period that day. His mind makes up a scenario where Jensen is with him in the shower. Jensen’s hands are wrapped around his waist and nipping at the skin on the back of his neck. 

Misha pretends he feels Jensen’s thick member pushing against his ass. One thing is for sure, if he got the chance, he would not hesitate to bend over for him. Jensen can take him any day, anytime, anywhere. His own hands wander to his cock, which became erect during this fantasy. He pretends its Jensen, swiping over his head. Jensen, teasing his slit as his other hand fumbles with his balls. 

The water was lubricant enough for Misha to start pumping up and down his now reddish-pink cock. His fingers travel down to his hole as he wishes he actually had some lube to get his prostate stimulated. That was his favorite. He imagines how Jensen’s long, thick fingers would feel inside him. Would he push for three fingers or just scissor him with two? Would he purposefully avoid his prostate until he pushes his own cock inside of him or over stimulate him until he’s begging for his cock? 

Misha’s own jerking gets faster during this dirty daydream. His knees become weak and the hot shower becomes lukewarm. With a muffled cry, he comes onto the small shower wall. The yellow tiles are marked with his orgasm. Settling down from his ecstasy, Misha bangs his head against the tiles and breathes deeply. 

“Fuck, Jensen.” Misha whispers hoarsely. “I’m so fucked.” 

After this, all he wants to do is get his hands on Jensen. He wants to feel his real arms around him. He wants to be at his mercy. All his efforts to calm his crush down just went into the drain with some of his come. There is no point of denying that he wants Jensen more than ever. He is so fucked.


	8. Saturdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Jory who helped me with that one specific thing :) or two... 
> 
> Sorry I'm so late. I had fun in India and thought a lot about writing :)

It was a lovely Saturday morning. The smell of pancakes filled the air, the sound of birds chirping created music and the soft warm light of the sun awoke the entire house. Well, that is how Misha would have liked his morning to start. Instead, the smell of garbage filled his nose, the sound of a fight next door woke him up and the feeling of humidity engulfed his skin. It was absolutely gross and disgusting. 

He dragged himself out of his rackety bed and changed out of his sweaty cloths into new ones. There was no way he could afford to shower this morning; he needed to save the water bill. Inspecting the smell of trash, he is lead outside where his driveway is filled with four large black bags of various pungent shit. He doesn’t know where it came from and he doesn’t know what to do with it. In frustration, he throws his hands up and sulks inside. Books lie. Saturday mornings aren’t good, they are never good. 

For breakfast, Misha had a whole and hearty meal of one small bag of Lays chips. Potatoes are good sources of starch, right? That’s important. He grabs his wallet and the newspaper he discarded last night and goes on a mission to find a job. Maybe, if he gets lucky, he’ll find one fast enough to join Felicia on her LARPing session. He locks up, grabs the bags full of shit and makes his way down the road. 

A few people stared at him on his walk down his street. Usually he’s out of the house early enough that his neighbors aren’t around to notice him but now, he’s the new kid is walking with a shitty odor. Who wouldn’t notice that? One of the older men who lives near him flicks his cheap used cigarette stub at him. His other hand, holding a brown paper bag with a bottle of what he could guess is most likely alcohol, comes up to his mouth and takes a gulp. He does all this without breaking eye contact with Misha. 

“Might wanna run, boy.” He sneers. “White kid like you in a place like this, you’ll be found dead in the gutters with your jeans around your ankle and your ass pounded so hard that…woo-hoo! You’ll be written off as a fairy.”

Misha’s heart skips a beat. Bile fills the back of his throat and he glances away from the man. He doesn’t know if that’s a threat or a promise from him. Taking three big breaths he moves his feet again, not even knowing he stopped walking during that whole interaction. 

“That’s right.” The man calls after him. “Run before Wade catches up to you.” 

Wade. Travis Wade. That’s whom he was talking about. Of course, who else would it be? Laugher reaches his ear as he speeds up his pace towards the community dumpsite and throws the bags into the field. He dusts his hands off and shivers at whatever was inside that bag. Time to find a job so he can pay off Wade and never see his goddamn face ever again. 

*** 

Hours and hours later, he sits down in the middle of the town center on a metal chair next to a small coffee shop. Misha wants to give up. He wants to pack up and run to where ever his dad is right now because he doesn’t know what to do. Starbucks won’t take him, the pizza shop won’t take him and every other listing on this stupid piece of paper says _Sorry, you aren’t qualified enough_. 

He cries out in defeat and uses his sweaty hands to rip up the newspaper and throws it onto the ground. Giving it two middle fingers and stomping on it for a couple of times, Misha finally calms down and leans down to pick up the discarded pieces of paper and stands to throw it in the trash. As he drops them inside the green bin, he is met with a blonde girl leaning against the doorway of the coffee shop, smirking at him. 

“Um…” Misha uncomfortable spits out. “Sorry.” 

“Oh, no.” She deflects. “It was actually very entertaining to watch.” 

“I…” Misha stutters out. “…don’t usually do that.” 

“You don’t?” She sighs. “That’s a shame. I thought you’d be kind of cool, unlike the rest of this town.” 

Misha looks around awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders. This has got to be one of the weirdest interactions he’s ever had with anyone. The young blonde girl looks no older than 19 or 20. She seems fresh out of high school. She’s wearing a floral summer dress with a dark green leather jacket on top. Pretty. But the dark green just reminds Misha of Jensen’s eyes. 

“So…” She starts off slowly, using her fingers to push her hair behind her ear. “What was with the little anger management issue you had there?” 

“I couldn’t get hired.” Misha says dismally. “Apparently, working at a LGBT+ center in Boston isn’t enough _experience_ for these low lives that live here.” 

“Hey!” She gasps defensively. “Matter of fact, I live here and the only low I go is if I have to get on my knees to eat out a hot beautiful girl or to suck a dick.” 

“Huh?” Misha stares at her in confusion, brows wrinkling, a light blush warming his face. Did normal people just say stuff like that? 

“Sorry.” Her expression flinches. “I have no filter.” 

“It’s okay.” Misha smiles as he warms up to her eccentric personality. “Normal is a setting on a washing machine, so no worries.” 

“Hey, that’s a good painting idea.” She straightens up with a inspired look on her face. “It would look great next to the picture of the dog eating a donut inside.” 

Misha raises one eyebrow and tilts his head up to the sign on top of the doorway. It reads: _Alona’s Coffee Stop_. He could only just assume that the blonde girl in front of him was Alona. 

“Do you own this shop?” Misha asks. 

“Yep!” Alona smiles brightly. “My blood and sweat make coffee and my shit and pee makes the pastries…okay, that’s probably not something to paint as décor.” 

“Yeah…” Misha snorts. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” 

“Come on in.” She makes way for him to come inside the shop. “I only bite gently.” 

Misha shakes his head in endearment and follows her into the shop. The inside looked very, the right word would be hipster. The walls were decorated with minimal framed paintings and painted a pastel blue. The big painting of the dog was in the middle of the large wall right opposite of the counter. Next to it a framed picture of calligraphy quote accented the wall. It said, _Weird should be a compliment_. The other side of the big painting, it was empty. Alona is right; his quote would look perfect next to the painting. There were three tables inside: one long one across the wall and two couple sittings next to the window. The wood is stained a light color and the chairs pastel green. Even the floors were different. The material was swishy but made out of wood, like cork. He finally turns to the counter and sees the menu written on chalkboard and a glass display, displaying, oh my word, the most delicious pieces of sugary sweets a man could ever dream of. 

“You like it?” Alona finally says after awhile. 

“Yeah!” Misha exclaims. “It’s beautiful.” 

“I have a few questions for you.” She leans over the counter on her elbows. “Care to answer them? It’s rapid fire.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He immediately agrees, shaking his head feverously. He hopes he gets a prize, specifically that beautiful mini pie sitting in front of him, as his stomach growls for food. 

“Name?” She starts. 

“Misha Collins.” 

“Age?” 

“18, turned this August 20th” 

“School?” 

“Senior year at Redwood High School.” 

“Extracurricular activities?” 

“Drama and Track.” 

“Sexuality?” 

“Pansexual.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep.” 

“Gender?” 

“Cis male.” 

“Dating anyone?” 

“No.” 

“Want to?” 

“Umm…” 

“Oh! Who?” 

“A boy at school.” 

“Sexy?” 

“Yes. Green eyes, nice plush lips, freckles, blondish brown hair.” 

“Do you know how to use a cappuccino machine?” 

“Yes.” 

“Great! You have the job.” 

Misha stares blankly at Alona. She smiles and takes out a few pieces of paper from under the counter and organizes them. Did she just offer him a job? 

“Wait.” Misha stops her. “What?” 

“I need some help around here and I was gonna put up an ad tomorrow in the paper but you saved me some money.” She shrugs. 

“You’re offering me a job?” He asks again. He doesn’t believe it. 

“Yes. I. Am.” Alona firmly confirms. She turns the papers around and holds out a pen. “12 dollars an hour, yes that’s how well this shop works. Flexible hours to move around with your school schedule and extracurricular activities. Also you get to work with a hot piece like me. Sorry, but no boss-employee relations though.” 

“Yes.” Misha shakes his head in befuddlement. “Yes, I’ll take it.” 

“Great. Just sign here.” She points at the dotted line. “Also, would you mind if you start now? There is going to be a rush in ten minutes.” 

“Yes, of course.” Misha agrees wholeheartedly. “Thank you so much.” 

“No problem.” Alona brightly smiles at him and takes the signed piece of paper from him. “I need to see if the pastries are done now. Be a good boy and wear the apron that’s on that counter.” 

With a huge smile, Misha puts on the pastel pink apron over his clothes and stands behind the counter waiting for customers to come in. Twelve dollars an hour. Wow. That’ll give him even more money and he can pay off that douchebag earlier. Maybe Saturday mornings are bad but their afternoons are good.


	9. Blueberry Pie and Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are liking this story. And i'm not boring the crap out of you <3

“And lastly, don’t steal anything.” Alona finishes her mini orientation. “That’s frowned upon in many capitalist societies.” 

“I think it’s frowned upon in socialist societies too.” Misha shakes his head in amusement. 

“Okay, here comes our first customer. Don’t mess up.” Alona winks at him and then backs into her kitchen. 

“Misha?” A familiar voice gets his attention. 

In front of him, there stands Jensen. Jensen is in a pair of worn jeans, a plain black tee and a grey and white plaid shirt. He looks amazing. But then, he thinks Jensen looks great in whatever he wears. He’d probably show up in a hot dog costume and still look like a Greek god. 

“Hi Jensen.” Misha forces the words out of his mouth. Why does he have so much trouble talking to him? 

“You work here?” Jensen questions as he leans against the counter, smiling flirtatiously.   
“Um… yeah.” Misha mumbles, as a blush reaches his cheeks. “I just got it.” 

“Well, congrats.” He genuinely smiles. 

“Um, thanks.” Misha looks down, his eyes twinkling. “What would you like?” 

“A blueberry mini pie.” Jensen replies, taking his wallet out. 

“That’ll be $2.50.” He says, ringing up Jensen’s order. 

He hands Misha his credit card. As he waits for him to swipe the card, Jensen asks him. 

“Did you get the email for the callbacks?” Jensen asks, trying to make casual talk. 

“I haven’t had time to check my email.” Misha replies as he packs the pie in small box. “Did you get a callback?” 

“Yep.” Jensen brightly smiles, his eyes lighting up in joy. 

“I wasn’t expecting anything else.” Misha mirrors Jensen’s smile. “You’re good.” 

“Ah, yeah.” He looks down and fumbles with his t-shirt. “Thanks.” 

Once Jensen gets his pie and hands him back his card, they share a small smile. Jensen gives him a small wave and retreats out towards the exit. On his way, Jensen almost tumbles over his own feet, murmuring profanities as he pushes through the door and out into the city. 

Misha stands behind the counter with a light pink blush on his cheeks and a sweet smile that shows the world he’s got a gigantic crush on a certain someone. A cough interrupts, Misha’s gaze, which was still on the exit. Alona is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. A smirk is planted on her face as she slowly comes closer. 

“Green eyes. Nice _plush_ lips. Freckles. Blondish brown hair.” She teases. 

“What?” Misha gawks with his mouth open. “No. That’s no. No.” 

“Please, you should have seen your face.” Alona pushes with copious amounts of sass. “You’re even redder than the batch of Red velvet I just put in.” 

Misha snorts and places his face in his hands. He’s that obvious around Jensen. That’s more embarrassing than when he accidently got caught with his ex in the janitor’s office back in Boston. How hasn’t Jensen noticed and called him a weirdo already? 

“You know, Jensen is a good choice.” Alona interrupts Misha’s internal questionnaire. 

“What?” Misha baffles. 

“He’s parents are super conservative, everyone knows that, but his aunts are probably the best in the world.” She explains, as she sets up a drip coffee. 

“What do you mean?” Misha asks, turning around and leaning against the counter. 

“His aunt, Taylor, is a legend around here.” Alona elaborates. “I heard that she was a tomboy who rebelled against everyone and one day she runs off to California with the weird girl in one of her classes. They’ve been happily married for 14 years.” 

“Wow.” Misha stares at her in awe. 

“Oh, yeah.” She nods her head in agreement. “I aspire to be them one day.” 

“I would to.” Misha laughs. 

The ringing of the bell near the door interjects their conversation. Two customers come through, heading straight for the counter for their order. Misha dives straight into work as more and more customers come in. 

He works until close, which is around five in the afternoon. Saying goodbye to Alona, he makes he way down back to his neighborhood. On the way, he sees the changes of architecture. Back near the coffee shop, there was more brick and modern styles while getting down the streets, wood takes over the brick and rusty metal replaces the modern styles. 

It wasn’t surprising. Misha knows about the differences of being raised in rich neighborhoods and poor neighborhoods. He’s seen many people follow the textbook end-results and he’s seen a few people fight against the system and succeed in their life. He would really like to be those rare people who fight. He wants to fight the system that ruins people’s lives in poor neighborhoods. 

Back in Boston, he lived at his mom’s friend’s place for a while while his mom was in rehab. That’s when Misha was dating Vicki. They were one of the best person he’d ever known. Remember that day when Vicki and him were caught in the janitor’s closet. His entire neck was showing off bruises they sucked on, claiming him as theirs. He misses them. Knowing long-distance never really works, when Misha only sometimes owns a burner phone. It was really the best thing for the both of them. 

Somberly smiling to himself, he turns the corner to his neighborhood. The smell hits him, reminding him where he is. From the sweet smell of he coffee shop, to the pungent smell of the streets, the difference is significant. Even in Boston, the poor neighborhoods were taken care of. He stayed in an apartment near an elderly woman, who whipped everyone in the building up to shape. If you didn’t clean, you’d have the face the terrors of Auntie Agnes and you really do not want to experience that wrath. 

Finally reaching his _house_ , he places his key into the hole but when the turns the nob, the door opens up without him turning the key. Static rock music reaches his ears and he perks up. 

“Dad?” He calls out. 

Instead of his father, his mom comes around the corner. Her eyes looked sunken in, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her skin is pale and thin. She lost weight. She looked even worse than before. If he brings up rehab again, she won’t listen this time. Especially when they don’t live around anyone they know and when dad is off with the band. 

“Mom?” Misha asks cautiously, “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Of course, sweetie.” She replies with a croaky voice. “Why’d you ask that? Now come on, I made some homemade jam and biscuits.”

As he gets closer to his mother, the boney prominence can be seen clearly. A tinge of red replaced the whites of her eyes. Crusty white powder mixed with what looked like dried blood lined the bottom of her nose. Her lips, cracked and evidence of past bleeding was obvious. 

“Mom.” He repeats in concern. 

“What?” She smiles at him. “I know you like the jam I make. When you were merely 3 years old, you’d finish an entire jar in one sitting.” 

She grabs at his arm and weakly pulls him into the kitchen, wanting to start their _happy family meal_. But Misha knows better.


	10. A Bitter Sweet Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings   
> >Drug abuse   
> >Mental Illness   
> >Panic Attacks   
> >Memory Loss   
> >Hoarding

They sit at the counter, where Travis stood days before. They laughed and they joked. They pretended nothing was wrong with their life. The peach jam smeared on both their hands, as they try to clean up the kitchen afterwards. These moments make Misha forget the worries of the world. But the threats of Travis nag the back of his mind. His internal turmoil of whether to tell his mother or not eats away at him. 

Observing her health, he decides against telling her about the money she owes. It might only make her worse. His decision seems sound when it was getting late and her hands start shaking. She complains about a headache and goes to her room to go to bed. 

With a long and defeated sigh, Misha turns off the lights in the kitchen and walks off after his mom. She’s already on her small bed sound asleep. He looks around her room and notes the clutter. Newspapers stacked up in the corner, a box with pieces of wood, a pile of what looked like photo albums, another box filled with old toothbrushes, and so on. Hoarding, that’s what psychologists call this. His mom is a hoarder. He lets out another sigh. 

Every time she goes into her relapse of drugs, he gets to know a new side of his mom. The first time was when he was thirteen. They were living in New York at that time. The apartment was small. They lived essentially in the neighborhood where people would get nowhere but in a ditch at the end of their lives. It was after school when he found her. He was so excited to meet his new friend, Phillip, and he was going to tell his mom all about him. Phillip was the only one in school who didn’t care if he was weird. He didn’t even care if he was a little overweight. But he never got to tell her about him. Instead he got to have his first what he now knows was a panic attack. 

He walked into her room, excited, and he finds her in the corner of her now _empty_ room. Three needles were on the ground near her. She was curled up into herself, shaking. When he reaches down to help her, she pulls away and when their eyes meet. Her eyes didn’t look like they were supposed to. They looked crazy. Her pupils wide blown, you could barely see the hazel. They were wide open, looking at him like he was a complete stranger. And what she said right after, those words will haunt his mind for the rest of time. 

_“Who are you and why have you taken my husband’s eyes?”_

Compared to that, he’d take hoarding any day. The worst part was, he never got to say goodbye to Phillip. Misha called up his dad and he straight up moved them to Boston the next day. His first friend and they never even got to blossom their friendship. 

Rubbing his hands on his thighs, Misha comes back to the present. He quietly runs to his room to grab his extra blanket and runs back to cover his mom with it. No matter how many times he has to lose good moments of his life, he’s never going to stop loving his mother. Without her, he doesn’t know who he would have been.   
“G’night, mom.” He whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Tomorrow is a new day. A new day with a new job to pay off a drug dealer. Misha cleans up the remaining things in the kitchen and moves to his room. He pulls out his notebook, the one he made all those calculations to get the money. If he is getting paid twelve dollars, he needs to add two dollars to his calculations. Maybe he’ll get the money earlier. 

He feels good about his calculations and puts in the tips he got that day into the tin can in the corner of his closet, which was hidden by a pile of his clothes. Finally, maybe he doesn’t have to worry about some things in his life. 

*** 

His mom was gone by Sunday afternoon, again. Misha didn’t even notice because he was at work. Alona even offered the extra room in her flat above the store when she heard he practically lives alone in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Austin. Politely refusing, he thinks it’s better not to because who knows when his mom or even his dad might come back. He needs to be there for them. Even if his family were what normal people would say messed up, he would never abandon them. 

Jensen dropped by the shop again; this time with Jared. It was, well, awkward. They dropped by after, what looked like their morning run. Football season was making them work their ass off. All he remembers, besides his tunnel vision of Jensen, is the fact that Alona decides to tease the shit out of him infront of those two. 

Thankfully, they left right after they bought those two cupcakes. Jensen’s was a simple vanilla with snicker doodle frosting. Not that he was specifically paying attention to what Jensen likes. But he was very grateful for the fucking $10 tip from Jared. Apparently he was the son one of the richest and famous cardiovascular doctor and a former director in Hollywood. 

When Monday comes around, he’s exhausted and relieved that he didn’t encounter his bullies in the morning. He sits at his desk in the morning; with Mr. Benedict in the front reviewing his lesson plans before the starts. Before class started, he checked his email from the computer in the classroom and was elated that he got a callback for the play. 

“Misha?” Mr. Benedict calls. 

“Yeah?” 

“I just reviewed your sociology project from the beginning of the quarter and I’ve got to ask, what are you thinking of doing when you graduate?” He asks. 

Misha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He’s never really thought of what he’s going to do after high school. Other than running off to LA, he never really planned to do anything else. 

“Um… I’m not really sure.” Misha replies. “I don’t have plans to go to college, it’s too expensive.” 

“How about scholarships?” Mr. Benedict suggests, as he sits down backwards on the chair in front of him. 

“I’m not sure.” Misha shrugs. 

“If I help you, do you think you’d want to try to apply for some universities?” He folds his hands in front of him. 

“Um…” Misha thinks about the suggestion. It would be nice to go into sociology. Helping others and learning about the society is something he loves to do. “I guess so. I’m not really positive about it but I guess it won’t hurt me.” 

“Great.” Mr. Benedict smiles widely. “I’m going to talk to Matt Cohen, our Vice President, and see what we can do to get some scholarships for the application costs. You pick some universities you want to apply to. I’ll go through each and every step with you.” 

Misha nods in agreement and smiles to himself. Maybe this is a good idea for him; after all, he’s got nothing to lose. He lets his teacher go back to the front of the room as the rest of the class starts piling in. 

*** 

When it was finally lunchtime, he sits down at his usual spot, underneath the staircase with his notebook, working on his Algebra homework from that day. He doesn’t even have to look up to see who came by and sat down next to him. Honestly, it’s hard to mistake someone with red hair with none other than Felicia. 

“Hey!” Felicia exclaims. 

“Hi, Felicia.” Misha smiles back. “How was LARPing this weekend?” 

“Oh my God, I had so much fun.” She brightly gasps. “I wish you could have joined!” 

“I found a job.” Misha replies apologetically. 

“What?” She says, offering him an extra yogurt. “Where?” 

“It’s a coffee shop, downtown.” Misha explains, accepting the yogurt. “It’s called _Alona’s Coffee Stop_.” 

“Oh! I’ve seen that before.” Felicia mouths around her turkey sandwich. “I’ve always wanted to go.” 

“It’s really cool.” He explains. “Alona is amazing.” 

“You better not be replacing me.” She jokingly threatens. “I already self-appointed myself as your best friend.” 

“Nope.” Misha laughs. “Your job is safe.” 

“Good.” She smiles back at him. “Do you work all weekends?” 

“So far yes.” 

“Hmm…” She nods her head. “I’ll come by this weekend.” 

“That’ll be cool. Jensen’s apparently comes by on the weekends.” Misha says, while his cheeks turn red. 

“Oh! Jensen!” Felicia teases, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Shut up.” Misha pushes against Felicia’s arm. “I swear, you and Alona are going to be the death of me.” 

“Alona knows?” She asks. 

“Yeah, apparently I’m that obvious.” Misha rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Well, she ain’t wrong.” Felicia shrugs while snickering. 

“Oh my God!” Misha exclaims. “This is so embarrassing.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence after Felicia is done laughing until her stomach starts to hurt. They finish their lunch and get up to walk together to their drama class. Once sitting in their seats in the back, the pick up the piece of paper that was on their desks. It looked like a new project for their class. Before Misha could start reading it, Mark stood up to explain the new project. 

“So I guess everyone is wondering what the piece of paper is on your desks.” He drawls in his British accent. “This project is worth 40% of your entire grade this quarter. This is going to show your talent in acting as well as your knowledge in the history of theatre.” 

Mark pauses to turn on the projector and names of plays are illuminated on the screen. 

“Now what you will do is take two plays from this list and integrate them together.” Mark turns to see confused faces. “Meaning, you will take a scene from one play, a scene with only two characters, and take the time period from another play. For example, doing _Rent_ during the time of _Julius Caesar_.” 

Felicia and Misha look at each other with an interested and impressed expression. This is a unique project that sounds like a lot of fun to do. 

“Now, as most of you have realized, this is a partnered project.” Mark confirms everyone’s speculation. “For the last few little projects, I’ve let you pick your partners but this time, I have randomly picked for you.” 

Murmurs flood through the classroom. Misha glances at Felicia with a sad smile but awaits Mark to call out their partners. At that time, the door opens and Jensen comes rushing in. 

“Sorry.” He pants. “Couch Cliff had an emergency meeting during lunch. It ran a little late.” 

Mark waves him to his seat, not particularly caring. Misha glances at the back of Jensen’s head and sighs. It’d be a miracle if he gets partnered up with him. But then, when has life ever been fair with him? He watches Mark give a run down of the project to Jensen and then tunes back to the classroom, ready to read out the partners. 

“Felicia and Charlie.” 

“Fred and George.” 

“Dean and Sam” 

Misha tunes out the names and doodles on his notebook, only listening for his own name. 

“Jensen and Misha.” 

Misha snaps his head up and looks at Jensen with wide eyes. He watches him turn around and give him a small smile and two thumbs up. The girls around him look at him, too. But with death glares and stink eyes instead. 

Once Mark is done calling out the names, he tells the class to go introduce themselves to their partners and get started on planning for their project. Misha stays frozen in his spot, still staring at Jensen. He barely hears Felicia’s teasing remarks before she goes off to meet her partner. Jensen’s eyes meet his as he saunters over to the back of the classroom to take Felicia’s spot. 

Oh, he is so screwed.


	11. Hard and Confused

“So…” Jensen starts. “What do you want to do for the project?” 

“Uh…” Misha intelligently replies. 

Jensen chuckles and nods, “Yeah I’m pretty stumped by the this too. I want to do something different from the others though.” 

Misha watches Jensen take out his binder and ruffle through to find a blank piece of paper. He wishes he was stumped because of the project, not just in pure shock that Jensen is his partner and he gets to talk to him more. On more pressing matters, if his heart doesn’t calm down when he’s around Jensen, his heart will go into atrial fibrillation. 

“You know?” Jensen turns back to him. “I feel like many people are going to take a Shakespearean play and put it into a modern scene. What if we did the opposite? Something like _Rent_ in the times of _Macbeth_ or um…” 

“Like _Legally Blonde_ in the times of _Antigone_?” Misha suggests, after his brain starts working again. 

“Antigone?” Jensen perplexes, scrunching his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, the Greek play.” Misha minimally explains. 

“Hmm…” Jensen hums, going into deep thought, “What if we took a Greek play and mixed it up with a Shakespearean play?” 

“Would that fit into the criteria for the project?” Misha asks. 

“I don’t know.” Jensen replies just as the bell rings for the next class. “You go ahead and get to your next class, I’ll go ask Mark.” 

“Won’t you miss—“ Misha expresses concern for Jensen’s next class. 

“Nah. I don’t have a 6th period.” Jensen shrugs off. “Perks of finishing your elective credits, huh?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Misha agrees. 

“Anyway, I think your friend is waiting for you.” Jensen points to the door with his pencil where Felicia stands looking at them with a big goofy smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Misha nods and packs up his things. He watches Jensen whip out a notecard and quickly write something on it. He follows Jensen’s hand with his gaze. It taps against his sleeve, getting his attention. 

“Here is my cellphone number.” Jensen places the card on Misha’s palm, letting his fingers linger on Misha’s skin a little longer than they needed to. “Text me so I can let you know what Mark says about our questions for the project.” 

“Uh, sure.” Misha mumbles. 

His hands tighten around the notecard and hurry on next to Felicia. She looks at him curiously and down at his hand. Misha worries his lip, wondering how he’s going to text Jensen when he doesn’t even have a phone. He could get a prepaid from the gas station but he needs to save money for the debt he owes. 

“You’re worried about how you’ll text or call him, right?” Felicia asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“You could use my phone?” She offers. 

“No, I’ll just get a prepaid phone or something.” Misha sighs, “I mean I need one anyway.” 

Felicia nudges Misha’s arm with her elbow and reassuringly smiles at him. He mirrors her and they keep walking towards their respective classes across the school. They pass by the gang of bullies, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed. 

“Hey!” Robert yells. “Look guys, it’s the fag.” 

“Oh shit.” Cody snickers. “It’s fucking disgusting.” 

They all laugh and mock Misha. Felicia, with a stone face, turned to them with what looked like the determination to roast them into tomorrow. With a harsh gasp, Misha holds Felicia back. A curt shake of his head, signals her not to fight. Her expression softens and nods. But before they keep walking, she holds up both her hands with her two middle fingers gesturing those assholes to fuck themselves. 

Once they were earshot away from them, Misha turns to Felicia with a perplexed look. She looks at him with the corner of her eye and keeps walking straight forward. Her mouth turned downward, settled in a frown. 

“What?” She snaps. 

“Why are you mad at me?” Misha asks. 

“Because you won’t let me defend you.” She says with a frustrated tone. She halts and turns to him. “I finally meet someone whom I can actually call a true friend and I can’t even protect them?” 

“Felelica…” Misha whispers. 

“I’m sorry but you need to let people in.” She shakes her head. 

“I can’t do that.” Misha sighs. “I hurt everyone I get close to.” 

“Really?” She crosses her arms. 

“That’s been the case so far.” He mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. 

Felicia lets out a shaky breath and turns around to sit down on the curb. Misha stands near her, shuffling with his feet. The ringing of the bell reach their ears, signaling the start of sixth period. 

“Do you want to skip class?” Felicia whispers. 

“We’re already late, so why not.” Misha agrees with a shrug. 

Getting up, Felicia nods toward the parking lot, telling him to follow her. They walk side by side to a yellow convertible Beetle. Misha snorts back a laugh and looks away with a slight smile. Felicia lightly shoves him and rolls her eyes. They both get in and she starts driving to her place.

Ten minutes later, they reach a medium sized house. The front lawn had a green lawn, even when the Texan hot summer was burning all the greenery. The blue picket fence surrounds the property. The light green color of the house compliments the dark green swing in the front. 

“Welcome to my house.” Felicia smiles. 

“This is a great place.” Misha compliments, while getting out the car. 

“Yeah, not as great as the rich people at school.” Felicia says, leading them up to her front door. “But I’m just privileged to be raised in a high middle class household. And lucky that my parents accept my sexuality.” 

She leads him inside her house. Immediately, he recognizes a large rainbow flag framed on the entrance wall. 

“I think they more than accept it.” Misha laughs. 

Felicia snorts at his remark. “They’re totally hipsters. Also they grew up in San Francisco. So, I’m not surprised they are accepting.” Misha looks around and sees the nice neutral colors of the interior design. “If you’re done checking out my house, let’s go to my room.” 

“Woah, I’m not your type of guy.” Misha puts his hands up. 

“Wow. You’re so funny.” She replies with sarcasm dripping off her words. 

With a mutual laugh, Felicia leads him to her room. The first thing he thinks of when he enters her room is a comic book store. Posters of Supergirl, Wonder Women, Black Canary, Captain Marvel, and many more super women are decorated on her wall. Fan-boys would go crazy, and not in a good way. 

“Go ahead, say what you want to say.” Felicia says when she sees his face. 

“You are such a nerd.” Misha laughs. “But I already knew that.” 

“Loser.” 

“Takes one to know one.” 

Felicia rolls her eyes and flops down one her bed. “Fuck, I’m so tired!” 

Misha notices her laptop, “Can I use your laptop?” 

“Yeah, let me sign in for you.” She reaches out to grab her Macbook. 

“Or do you just want to exit out of porn?” Misha teases as he sits down on the chair near her desk. 

“Yep.” She agrees with a straight face. “That’s exactly what I wanted to.” 

She passes her laptop over to him, and he logs onto his email. A new message pops up; callbacks for the play were at 5pm that day. He groans, Misha was hoping to go home and just work on his homework but he’ll just have to stay on campus. On another note, he also needs to get a cell phone. He opens a search and looks for prepaid phones. Each plan was more expensive than he thought; on top of that he still needed an actual device. The cheapest was a stupid flip phone that was about a dollar twenty. 

“What are you doing?” Felicia asks over her comic book. He recognizes the cover as the Green Arrow. 

“Looking for phones.” He sighs. “I found a plan that I could probably afford. I don’t have a device. Unless I want a flip phone.” 

“Oh!” Felicia gets up and opens her closet to pull out a box. “Take this, it’s one of my old phones before I got my upgrade.” 

“Felicia, I can’t take this.” Misha looks at the blue iPhone 5s and back at her in awe. 

“Okay, dude, dude.” She sits down with a frustrated look. “I want to do this. You’re my friend. Not a charity case, I know you think that’s why I’m doing this but I’m not. Also it’s an old phone. I have a 6s now. I also want to text you. So please take it.” 

“But—“ Misha starts but sees her glare. “Okay, fine.” 

“Good.” She says with pride, her chest puffed out and head held high. 

“I’ll pay you with free cupcakes every weekend.” He replies. “I get them for free.” 

“Okay, I won’t say no to that.” She smiles and flops back on her bed. “I want to meet Alona, I heard she’s cool.” 

“Oh, yeah.” He agrees. “She’s really nice. A little weird but then what are we?” 

“Ha.” She breathes. “True as fuck.” 

“Can you drop me off at the school around 4:30?” He asks. “Also drop by Wal-Mart?” 

“Why?” 

“Callbacks are at 5 today and I want to buy the sim for the phone.” He replies. 

“Why don’t we go now?” She suggests, getting up from the bed. “We can walk around the store and pretend we’re planning our future and wear shitty styles.” 

“Sure.” Misha shrugs. He grabs his back and they both go out for their mini adventure. 

*** 

Misha reaches school after Felicia and him almost get kicked out of Wal-Mart for trying to tell people that lampshades are the new height in fashion as hats. They sit in her car, charging his new phone so he can set it up. Though he’s nervous about the fact he has to pay about 30 dollars every month but that was the only plan with unlimited texting. At least it wasn’t $150 like Version. _’Fucking shitty network’_ in the words of Queen Felicia. 

Pulling out the notecard Jensen gave him, he stared at the phone number with a weird feeling. He’s nervous, scared, delighted and confused. Misha knows Jensen would never like him. And in the wise words of Vicki, “Never fall for a straight boy.” 

Yet, here he is. Falling for a straight boy. He traces over the smiley face right next to Jensen’s name. Felicia clears her throat and hands him the phone. With shaking fingers he types in Jensen’s information on his phone and opens up a message. 

“What am I supposed to say?” Misha whispers. 

“Hi, Misha here. Please have sex with me.” Felicia mocks with a funny voice. 

He sends her a glare and types in: “This is Misha, did Mark say anything about the project?” 

“Wow that is SO boring.” Felicia moans with fake frustration. “I’m trying to be your lesbian wing-woman here.” 

Misha hits send and turns to Felicia, “He’s probably straight and I don’t want to get my hopes up.” 

She smiles sympathetically, “Keep an open mind.” She takes a deep breath and points at the clock in her car. “It’s 4:55, go get a part in the play.” 

After their goodbyes, Misha enters the building where a small crowd of students who waited to go inside for their callbacks. He sits down against the wall, in the same spot as last time. He takes out his sociology notebook and reading to write up his responses for the homework. Not noticing someone sitting down next to him, he keeps writing. Names started to be called to go inside the auditorium. People were randomly selected, just like the first auditions. 

After 30 minutes, Misha finally finishes his homework and while putting it away he notices Jensen sitting right next to him doing his own math homework. He freezes, with big wide eyes he watches Jensen write out numbers in perfection. _Write out numbers in perfection?_. What the hell is wrong with him? 

“Hey, Misha.” Jensen says without looking up, like he knows he’s staring at him with a helpless expression. 

Clearing his throat, Misha greets him back, “Hi.” 

“You were really into that homework. What was it?” Jensen finally looks at him with curious green eyes. 

“Sociology.” 

“Damn, that shit is hard.” Jensen whistles. 

“You’re doing Advanced Calculus.” Misha points to the paper. “You’re one to talk about hard.” 

Misha is two seconds away from clamping his hand on his mouth. Where the fuck did he get that courage from? He’s also kind of amazed he could actually say a normal sentence without stuttering in front of Jensen. 

Jensen smirks at him and leans forward, “I don’t know if Calculus is hard but I know some other things that are hard.” 

Just then, Jensen’s name is called to go inside the auditorium. He winks at Misha and leaves. Leaves him feeling extremely aroused and confused at the same time. 

What the hell just happened?


	12. Cuts and Texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very sensitive chapter. So please if you are triggered by self harm, crlt + f to PING. Triggers will be found on end of chapter notes.

Callbacks went well, even when Misha’s entire face was redder than a beet due to Jensen’s comment. Robbie thought his take on the scene from _Pipin_ was morbid and interesting. Then, told him to look out for his name on the casting bulletin he’ll put up on the announcement board outside the theater during lunch tomorrow. 

He’s walking down the back alleyway of the school. Since it was already 6pm, he wasn’t expecting anyone there. He hasn’t taken this shortcut since he was beaten up. It took a lot of effort and courage to go this way. When he saw the four boys who have it out for him sitting on the wooden carts in the alley, the blood drained from his face. 

Hoping they didn’t notice him, he turns around trying to tiptoe out of there. Thinking he could make it, he hears someone clear their throat. He sneaks a peak behind him and sees Michaels looking at him with a sinister smirk. 

“Where you going, pansy?” He sneers. “Afraid of someone?” 

Misha closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He grabs his hand from shaking and turns around to face his opponents. By then Brad and Cody were leaning against the brick wall, drinking out of beer bottles and Robert was standing next to Michaels, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“Afraid?” Misha tilts his head in confusion. “No. I just don’t want to hurt you guys.” 

Robert tries laughs just as he inhales another puff, choking on the smoke. Michaels glares at him and pushes him back behind him as he strides up, with his chest puffed out, to Misha. He grabs his shirt from the front and pulls him up, close to his face. 

“Michaels, if you wanted a kiss you could have just asked.” Misha teases, “Sweetheart.” 

Everything slows down for a moment. Misha saw every detail of Michaels sneer, even the three small hairs on the edge of his chin, before he was thrown against the hard wall. He feels a fist scrunching up the back of his hair and pulling his head back. He watches the rough, bumpy brick getting closer and closer to him as his head hits against it. 

That’s when time sped up back to normal. The intense pain in his temple spikes up as his body hits the ground. Michaels kneels down next to him, takes his arm and pulls it in a direction that hands aren’t supposed to turn. Misha lets out a loud scream as he tries to keep the tears from falling down his face. His breath hitches when he feels the wind knocked out of his chest when Michaels punches his stomach. 

They all hear footsteps coming from the other side of the alley. Michaels looks up and sees someone who looks like the janitor from school. He lets go of Misha’s hand and stands up, watching the figure’s walking quicken as they notice them. 

“Hey!” The man yells, the other three boys start running the opposite direction. 

Michaels looks down and spits on Misha’s face and says, “Stay down, bitch.” Then joins his group to run away from the scene. 

“Shit.” The man swears under his breath. “Hey, you okay?” 

Misha looks up and recognizes the man as Mr. Speight. He sighs as he puts his body weight on his good hand to sit up. Speight kneels down and looks at his face. His lines were sketched in worry as he looks at his arm for anything wrong. 

“Do you like getting beat up or something?” He asks him. 

“No, Mr. Speight.” Misha whispers. 

“Mr. Speight?” He laughs. “Call me Rich or Dick. But I feel as if Rich would be better in terms not getting me fired from school.” 

“Okay.” Misha nods, he keeps looking down at the concrete on the floor. 

“Do you want me to help you get to some place?” Rich asks, “Someplace like the police station so you can file a complaint.” 

“I just want to go home.” Misha shakes his head weakly. “Go to bed.” 

“Are you sure?” He scrunches his eyebrows in concern. 

“Yeah, I can go by myself.” Misha stands up, holding his arm close to his chest. “My mom’s a nurse, she’ll help me.” 

“I’ll drop you.” Rich offered. 

“No.” Misha says too quickly. “I mean… I don’t need it. It’s just my arm.” 

“Are you sure?” He repeats. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Misha waves off as he walks away from the alley. 

*** 

At home, he first checks his head and stomach for any serious injuries. Not finding anything wrong, he lays down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. The plaster was peeling off and he could see the wood underneath it. Misha blinks and feels tears slips out of his eyes. He doesn’t know when bullies ever got to him. 

Though this was the first place he was ever physically abused. Back in New York and Boston, he was just verbally abused. Mostly about his weight and his weirdness. The first time he was bullied he remembers taking his pocketknife and cutting into his thighs. Scars of a peace sign on one thigh and the word _loser_ sketched on the other. That’s the day he started. 

His hands shook as he stood up and walked towards his bathroom. A deep feeling of emptiness increases in the middle of his chest. Every sound, from the creak of the wood under his feet and the chirping of the bugs outside, amplifies. The light felt too sensitive as he squints though his drawer to find the thin pieces of metal. His skin tingles when his fingers finally feel the cool metal of the razors. Holding them up, he stares at them in desperation and then his reflection on the mirror. His eyes are puffy and streaks of tears paint his rosy cheeks. He looked disgusting. Sighing, he backs up to the wall and sinks down to the ground. 

With shaking hands, he pulls down the sleeves of his burgundy sweater. He places the sharp end of the blade against his forearm, right above a previous scar of his. In dire efforts to stop him from breaking skin again, his common sense speaks to him. But his mind overpowers it. It speaks louder than the world around him. The sizzling of the light bulb above him intensifies as his brain keeps shooting sadistic words at him. The most vicious part was, he believes them. 

_He is useless._

_He is pathetic._

_He is a basket case._

_He is worthless._

_He is selfish._

_He is disgusting._

_He is no use to this world._

_He is only destined to die alone and early._

_He should end it._

With that, the razor splits his skin. Dark red blood spills out the cut. The pain shuts up the world around him. His eyes focus on the pebbles of blood erupting on his skin with every slice. His mind goes into a trance. A bubble of an alternative world surrounds him. A world where everything is good and everything is fine. 

He drops the razor on to the ground and leans his head back on the wall. Taking long deep breaths, his eyes close and all he does is laugh. It’s a watery laugh; tears from his eyes are slipping into his mouth. The salty taste wakes him up. He hisses when he moves his arm. Coming back to his senses, he notices he cut up the same arm Michaels twisted. It’ll be easier to hide. 

With a blank face, he take out his first aid kit and grabs the alcohol swabs. He slowly cleans up his hand, hissing and clenching his teeth with every burn. Using the compressing bandage, he covers his arm and wraps it up. Shuddering, he covers up his arm, hiding his secret from the rest of his world. 

After cleaning up, Misha sits on the middle of his bed with his head drooping down. His dark hair drops in front of his eyes. His uninjured hand wraps around his bandaged forearm and he cries. Tears drip down onto his pants and down his face. It felt as if the faucet in his eyes was turned on and he had no idea how to close it up. 

_*PING*_

The noise startles Misha. He looks up and scans the room in confusion. Sniffling, he brings up his hand to wipe his eyes. The noise rings off again, twice. The source of it came from his backpack. He reaches over, wincing at the stinging pain from his arm. Taking out the…his phone from his backpack, a new number had sent him three messages. 

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Hey! It’s Jensen_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Mark sent an email because he wants to elaborate on the project. He realized some problems with the planning. (not his fault tho, he was forced to do the project via the departments need for us to learn how to synthesis. He would rather have us just focus on what he wants to teach us_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Shit it’s like 10pm, I hope you’re not like asleep and that I woke you or something_

Misha lets out a shuddered breath. He forgot Jensen would actually send a message back to him. It takes a lot of courage to press on the text blank to send him back a message. 

**Misha**   
_No, I was awake. And sounds good._

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Cool! I hope callbacks went well for you ☺_

**Misha**   
_Thanks, you too. But you were really good in Les Mis last year_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_You saw that?_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_how long have you been at this school? I would have remembered you_

**Misha**   
_I moved from boston near the end of last year_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Oh! I was like, I wouldn’t have missed those baby blues if you were here throughout high school_

Misha’s eyes widen and his face warms up. His heartbeat quickens up as he wonders what Jensen means. Does he like his eyes? Felicia may be right; maybe he’s not as straight as Misha thought he was. But this is Texas, and he’s heard how conservative his parents are. But then Alona talked about his aunts. The confusion clouds his mind and butterflies or probably something larger make his stomach feel funny. 

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_I mean, you have really bright blue eyes. It’s like looking at the sky._

If that was Jensen’s way of making it less gay and flirty, it really did not work. Misha lies down on his side with the phone in front of his face. With a soft smile he re-reads those words. 

**Misha**   
_Says the guy who has a forest in his eyes._

Misha crosses his fingers and hopes he didn’t read this the wrong way. Just then, his stomach decides to growl in hunger. Not surprised, he hasn’t had any food other than what Felicia gave him for a snack. He places the phone on his pillow and runs to his kitchen to grab a TV dinner. He shoves the plate inside the microwave and waits for it to heat up. 

Stroking his arm, Misha closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so weak. He remembers when Vicki first found out about it. They were so supportive and they helped him through everything. Before he moved, he was 6 months clean. Then the moved happened and the physical abuse happened. 

The microwave starts beeping and he takes out his dinner, walking back to his room with it. Checking his phone, he notices 5 missed texts. 

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_wow. Rude. My eyes aren’t forests they are the green sea, duh._

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_Just kidding, thanks_

**+1 (512) 356 0583**   
_I’m going to finish up my math, which im telling you is easier than sociology. See you tomorrow._

**Misha**   
_They are forests, trust me, I’m an expert. And yeah right. Advanced Calculus? Easier than sociology? And night._

Misha then adds Jensen’s number to his contacts, then screenshots their message. Opening up a new message, he sends the screenshot to Felicia. 

**Misha**   
_Ummm… I may not be the best judge here but is this flirting?_

**Queen Felicia**  
_OH MY GOD. He’s flirting with you!!!!! :o :o :o_

**Misha**   
_but why?_

**Queen Felicia**   
_Babe, dude, nononono. That was flirting. What straight guy calls another guys eyes BABY BLUES???_

**Queen Felicia**   
_Can I be your maid of honor when you two get married?_

**Misha**   
_Feliciaaaa, we’re not even together._

**Queen Felicia**   
_You will tho. Jensen and Misha. Jensha? Minsen? God all those sound gross._

**Queen Felicia**   
_Your last name is Collins right?_

**Misha**   
_yes_

**Queen Felicia**   
_Collins and Ackles…COCKLES!_

**Misha**  
_What? No._

**Queen Felicia**  
_Cockles. Has the word cock in it and we can hide it as we’re just hella into cockle shells._

Misha shakes his head and chuckles. She’s the weirdest person he’s ever met in his life. And that’s saying something because he has himself to compare to and Vicki and their gang in Boston. He texts her back saying goodnight as he finishes up his disgustingly salty dinner and prepares for bed. He still has school to go to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers:   
> >Self harm (cutting)   
> >Depression   
> >Physical Abuse


	13. Hey There, Blue Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of cuteness and flirting to make up for the pain from the last chapter.

Misha jerks awake as his alarm clock rings. Tears from last night had dried up and screwed his eyes shut. He painfully peels his eyes open. Blurred vision and bright light enters his field of sight. He groggily get off his bed and shuffles into the bathroom. The first thing he does take a short shower and then change his bandages on his arms. Even through most of the cuts were clotted, he wanted to keep it covered just incase of infection. 

Packing up everything for school, he grabs his phone and a granola bar as he leaves. He waits till he’s out of the neighborhood to pull out his phone and turns it on. He had five missed messaged. 

**Queen Felicia**  
_Can I visit you at work on Saturday? I want to meet your boss, Alona. I looked her up online and wow._

**Queen Felicia**   
_is she interested in girls? She’s really cute. Oh my god. It’s like 1 am and im so lonely because I want a girlfriend_

**Queen Felicia**  
_I have so much flannel and yet no girlfriends._

**Queen Felicia**  
_Jesus you’re probably sleeping. Sorry!!_

Misha snorts back a laugh. Felicia and Alona would be cute together. Maybe he’ll get the together. It’d be nice. He reads the other text he has, the one from Jensen. 

**Jensen**  
_You’re an expert? I don’t know. I have a phd on blue eyes and yours are the best._

Misha’s cheeks warm up and he ducks his head as he keeps walking towards the school. He passes the alleyway, deciding to take the long way around. He presses on Felicia’s chat and decides to text her back first. 

**Misha**   
_You should just come over on Saturday. Meet her for yourself._

**Queen Felicia**   
_Oh, god. That just makes me super nervous. What should I wear!?_

**Misha**   
_It’s not a date, it’s just you meeting her_

**Queen Felicia**   
_but I need to show her im into girls_

**Misha**   
_Trust me she’ll know_

**Queen Felicia**   
_okay. Just get to school. Meet me in the courtyard._

Misha sends a thumbs up emoji and then presses on Jensen’s chat to reply to him.   
**Misha**  
_Have you seen yours though? The green mixed in with those specks of gold. They look like a rare gem._

He knows he can flirt, but the idea of him flirting with Jensen baffles him. It’s Jensen, also known as Adonis. He’s beautiful, he’s confident; he’s everything Misha isn’t. But he’s got nothing to lose if he tries. 

Placing his phone in his pocket, Misha hurries his pace towards the school. Once he gets to the building, he hears Jensen’s voice from the parking lot. He’s leaning against his dark blue Chevy truck. Talking with Jared, making animated gestures as he smiles and talks about something. Ducking his head, he runs off to the entrance. 

“Felicia!” He yells across the courtyard, when he notices the bright red hair. 

“Hey, lover boy.” She winks back. 

“What?” He tilts his head in confusion. Sitting down next to her on the bench, he looks at the composition notebook she has in her arms. It was filled with writing, and it looked nothing like a homework assignment. 

“Oh, you know.” She winks at him, which makes him more confused about their interaction. “Cockles.” 

He blushes bright red and groans into his hands. “Why?” 

“Just cause.” She shrugs and goes back to finishing a line in her book. Closing it, Misha sneaks a peak at the label on it. _You’re Never Weird on the Internet (Almost)_. 

“What’s that?” He asks. 

“Oh, it’s a book I’m writing.” She explains as she places the book in her purple backpack. “I want to be a writer when I grow up.” 

“That’s cool.” Misha raises his eyebrows, impressed. “What kind of writer?” 

“Mostly sci-fi but I’m currently working on a motivational book.” She answers, turning to him. “But I have more important matters to talk to you about.” 

“Like what?” He asks with caution. 

“Jensen Ackles.” She says proudly. 

“Felicia…” He warns her. 

“But, come on!” She exclaims. A few heads turn around and look at them, she whispers ‘sorry’ to them and carries on their conversation. “He was totally flirting with you.” 

“Yeah, he texted me again.” He blissfully sighs. “He said that my eyes are the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen.” Pausing, he shakes his head in amazement. “I don’t think he’s as straight as I thought he was. But I don’t want to get my hopes up.” 

“Have you been flirting back?” Felicia asks with giddy excitement. 

“Yes.” 

“Ohhhh.” She winks at him and gasps when she looks behind him. “Look it’s Jensen.” 

Misha turns around and sees Jensen walking across the courtyard. He has his backpack on with one strap with his hand on it, his other hand inside his grey jeans pocket. Mish didn’t notice when he saw him at his car but he’s wearing a loose white shirt with a brown leather jacket. He sighs as he watches Jensen walk closer and closer, wait, is he walking towards him? _Shit._

Misha’s eyes widen, as his brain short circuits. He hears Felicia snickering behind him. Jensen is a good 4 feet away from them now, and their eyes meet. A smirk erupts on Jensen’s mouth as he looks pointedly at him. 

“Hey there, blue eyes.” Jensen slurs, with a wink. Misha goes pale and red at the same time. He’s 100% sure he heard that right, still her turns to Felicia and sees her with her mouth wide open and shock in her eyes. 

Jensen already passed them, but Misha still whispers, “Hi.” 

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” Felicia repeats trying to calm herself down. “He wants you. I mean, look at that. Did you hear him?” 

Misha just nods as he watches Jensen enter the building. His mouth was hanging, and his eyes were wide. 

“What are you going to do during class?” Felicia nudges his arm with a grin. “You’re partners.” 

“Crap.” He mumbles at the thought. They both get up to go their separate ways to their first class. He’s not going to be able to pay attention for the first 4 periods. 

*** 

Once lunchtime came around, Misha ran straight to the bulletin near the theater. When he gets there, he looks through the list and finds his name. He got part of the Players. There are in total three Players and, in general, they mess with Pippin in the cruelest way possible. Funny how he got that part, he knows more about players in the mind that he wishes he did. 

Satisfied with his role, he, on an impulse, checks which part Jensen got. He got Pippin. Of course he did. He’s an amazing actor. He looks good. He can sing like an angel. He deserves the main role. Honestly, the praises he sings for Jensen, aren’t enough. He deserves more than compliments from someone so petty. But this someone so petty is the person Jensen decided to flirt with. With a slight smile, he taps on the glass and turns to go back to get back to his lunch spot with a slight spring in his step. 

“Hey, Felicia.” He greets, smiling widely, as he crawls next to her under the stairs. She smiles back at him and passes him an apple. She always gives him food; he surveys the redness of the apple as he wonders why she does this. 

“Why do you give me food everyday?” He finally asks, taking a bit of the apple. 

“I noticed you don’t eat.” She shrugs. “It’s stupid, you know. You gotta eat.” 

Misha looks at her with an intriguing look, she never ceases to amaze him, “You definitely deserve my free bakery treats and introduce you to Alona.” 

Felicia blushes and looks at him pointedly, “Not funny.” 

“I think she’s bisexual.” He hints with a sly smile. 

“Really?” She smiles widely. “Sweet I might have an actual chance. I’ve been waiting for so long to not be the only queer girl in this town.” 

“I don’t think you were to only…” Misha contradicts, with a mouthful of apple. 

“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “I want a girlfriend.” 

“What? I’m not enough for you?” Misha gasps and wipes a fake tear. Felicia snorts as she takes a sip of her juice box and starts coughing when she inhales the fruity juice into her nose. 

“Fuck!” She exclaims, whipping her nose with her sleeve. Misha laughs unreservedly and tries to stifle it when she sends a stink eye at him. 

“You know what, you’re the one whose going to have to sit with, Mr. “Hey there Blue Eyes” during drama.” She scolds. “I could have saved you by sitting by you with my partner but I think I’m going to let you embarrass yourself.” 

“Okay, that’s not fair.” Misha interjects. 

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head in determination. “It’s plenty fair.” 

*** 

Misha sits at his desk, tapping his pencil against the wooden desk. Felicia and Charlie were in the front already for the class to start. The desk next to him sits empty as he waits for Jensen. Mark was passing out the new instructions for the project when Jensen slips through the door. He runs to the desk next to Misha and sits down just when the bell rings. 

“Okay, so I hope everyone got the email I sent last night.” Mark goes ahead and starts the class. “There have been—“ 

Mark keeps talking when Misha’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out and sees a message from Jensen. He glances next to him, and Jensen is sitting there with his phone on the table. Noticing, Jensen is staring at him he mouths _What?_. As a response, Jensen just gestures to the phone in his hands. 

Looking back at his phone, he clicks on the message to open it up. When he reads it, his eyes widen. A blush not only paints his cheeks but is burning up the back of his neck, his ears and probably every single part of his body. He looks back at Jensen for an explanation, but Jensen stares forward with a content smirk on his face. Well, two can play at this game. 

**Misha**   
_If you think my ass looks good by watching me walk, then you should see it when I bend over. ;)_

Jensen’s phone slightly lights up. He looks down and then looks back at Misha with a raised eyebrow. In the corner of Misha’s eyes, he watches him read the message and his face and ears light up red. Now he mirrors the same smirk Jensen has a few seconds ago. Thinking this was his victory; Misha goes back to listening to Mark. 

“—and you’ll have until Thanksgiving break to finish this. Write a screenplay based on two plays from two different time periods, add in your own actors notes, and write a self reflection essay.” Mark finishes up. “Now get to work, you twats.” 

Jensen grabs the bar of Misha’s desk with both his arms and pulls him and the desk right next to him. Football and Baseball really pays off, he’s fucking strong. He stares at him with a warm but intimidating spark in his eyes. Misha gulps and tries to say something out loud but fails. 

“You interesting in bending over for me?” Jensen whispers in a deep tone. “Because if that’s an offer, I’ll take it up on it, Blue Eyes.” 

“Well, Mr. Perfect…” Misha tries to come back with something, anything. But his brain short-circuits again. Maybe he should just stick to flirting on text. He was never like this with anyone. Misha knows he can come back with a witty comment on spot but the first time in his life, he’s drawn up blank. 

“Mr. Perfect?” Jensen teases and then easily changes the conversation. “So I was thinking of doing Antigone and Les Mis.” 

“What?” Misha jerks in surprise. They were just flirting and now they are talking about the project. 

“You know, the project we have.” Jensen says, trying to keep his lips from forming a smile. But the corners betray him, as they turn upwards a little. 

“Umm…” Misha’s heart is racing; he can’t believe Jensen is chirping him. He decides to play along. “That would be cool. Since you did Les Mis last year.” 

“Yeah.” Jensen says quietly, with a fond gaze. With that, they both get into planning their project. 

Time went by so quickly, they didn’t even notice. Mark makes one final announcement considering the amount of time they will be allowed to work on the project in class. This week was the only week he’ll allow it, and then starting next week they’ll go back to his normal plans and the rest of the project will be done at their own time. That means Misha will have to spend time with Jensen outside of school grounds. Which also implies that this, whatever you call this, tension between them will be tested even more.


	14. Chocolate Bars and Full Views

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers:   
> >homophobic language   
> >sexual content (not misha or jensen)

If Misha could summarize the rest of his week, he’d say it was filled with tremendous amounts of flirting. Practice had started for the play. Though it was mostly just an introduction to the play itself, training for new actors, and reading through the script. The worst part was, rather a blessing if you see it the right way, Jensen would move out of his way just to sit next to Misha. Like he didn’t torment him enough by hitting on him so openly during class. 

They got a far deal of the planning of the project done. It was just the actual script writing they had to do, which will now be done at Jensen’s house, as they decided. Misha’s glad Jensen offered, he wouldn’t be able to bring him to the crack house he lives in. 

Finally, it was the weekend. Apparently homecoming weekend, too. Jensen asked him if he was coming by to watch the game and doing to the dance. He would have loved to watch Jensen play, even if he knows shit about football, but he had work. When he denied it, Jensen seemed saddened by it. 

Trying to think too much into it, Misha wakes up Saturday morning ready to work. As he walks down to downtown, he passes the man who sneered at him a week earlier. He tried to avoid eye contact, but it was hard when the man steps right in front of him, making sure to remind him of Travis’s impeding doom. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes radiated off of him as Misha pushes past him. He’s not going to be late because of some man who wants to make his life hell. 

Once he gets to the coffee shop, he sighs a breath of relief when he gets hit with the air conditioner. It was an abnormally hot day, even for Austin. Thankfully he could wear one of his thinner long sleeves, because he took off his bandages two days before. He closes his eyes and breathes in the refreshing smell of baked goods and air conditioning. 

“Misha!” Alona calls. She’s wearing floral shorts and a loose tank top with a matching headband today. 

“Hi, Alona.” Misha smiles back. “How was the week?” 

“Well, the place didn’t burn down. So I take that as a good sign.” She wittily replies. 

Misha wears his apron and washes his hands in the sink. “One of my friends is coming by, she wanted to meet you.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” Alona bangs some dough onto the counter. “She cute?” 

“I think so.” He smiles, knowingly. “She thinks you’re cute.” 

Alona stops her work and stares at him intently. “Are you trying to set her up with me?” 

“I just want you two to meet.” Misha defends himself. 

“Huh.” Alona wonders, kneading the dough in her hands. “Tell me about her.” 

“She’s pretty much my first friend here.” He begins to explain Felicia to her. “She’s badass. I cannot explain to you how much of a badass she is. She likes LARPing, huge nerd and a dork, has red hair, kind eyes. She’s friends with me so that defines her as being weird.” 

“Okay, okay.” Alona stops him. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds great.” 

Misha smiles cheekily at her and grabs the tray of pastries to place in front. He starts placing the pastries into their designed places. It was 5 minutes till opening and he still needed to ask Alona if she could give him his check from last week. He really needs to collect all that money. 

Alona comes next to him with another tray of pastries. They work together silently, as they place the sweets inside the showcase. Misha opens his mouth multiple times, wondering how he’ll ask his question. 

“You want to ask me something.” Alona says. She places the last sweet, something made out of puff pasty and strawberry, it smells fantastic. Misha sighs and turns to her. 

“I owe some money to someone and I was wondering—“ Misha explains before Alona interrupts him. 

“How much?” 

Misha blinks and shakes his head, “One thousand dollars, I just need the paycheck from last week.” Before he could even finish his request before Alona walks into the kitchen, leaving him to finish placing the last of the chocolate bars. 

Following Alona into the kitchen, he places his empty tray on the counter when Alona comes out a back office, which he didn’t even know was there. In her hands, a rectangular piece of paper sits, as she comes up to him and places it on his own hand. Looking down, he sees her name on it with the company’s name. It was a check. He’s about to say thank you but he sees the number. 

“You’re giving me $1000?” He loudly asks, with his eyes wide. 

“You’ll just work it off.” She shrugs. “Just keep the tips you get and put that in your wallet.” 

“Thank you.” Misha looks at the check in his hand with watery eyes. “This means a lot.” 

“Get back out there.” Alona laughs. “The sign should say open.” 

Placing the check carefully in his wallet, he turns and gets started on his day filled with customers. 

*** 

Throughout the day, Misha seemed to figure out the difference between the types of tippers. Old, rich people either never tipped or tipped like the extra cent they have, which they usually do not have. Fellow youths and mostly people who looked middle class, tipped from the normal 10% to 20%. Greed, Misha thinks. He doesn’t despise rich people, but why hold on to the extra money when you could be helping others. 

He worked at an LGBT+ community center back in Boston, he’d seen many unemployed and homeless LGBT+ youths. He knows the feeling. He remembers the need to find shelter in the busiest city in the world. The way privileged people stared at them, in pity or in disgust. His mom was too high to even care. It was only when his father came back a month later, when they got an apartment. He was only ten years old that time. 

Scoffing at himself, he shakes away the unnecessary self-pity. He’s messed up, anyone who gets closer than they need to will know that. The door to the store opens and a flash of red hair, and a bright smile comes in. Felicia, who was wearing a sweet floral dress with her hair done, comes in and waves. 

“Hey, Misha!” She says. Her smile was wide but he could see the panic in her eyes. She’s nervous to get acquainted to Alona. 

“Hi, Felicia.” He greets. “Do you want anything?” 

“Some confidence and that really nice looking chocolate bar.” She says with clear nervousness cutting through her voice. Her hands were clasps, wringing against each other. Misha leans down the display case and brings out a chocolate bar and places it on a small light green plate. Giving it to her, she clasps the plate like it’s an anchor. 

“It’s free. From me.” Misha waves, when she reaches into the pocket in her dress to pay him. “Also, you don’t have to be nervous. I introduced you to her and she thinks you’re cool.” 

“That makes me slightly better.” Felicia smiles and sits down at the bar near the cashier. She looks around the fairly empty store, expect for the old couple in near the window. “This is a nice store, I can’t believe I haven’t been here.” 

“It’s because you like Starbucks.” Misha points out. 

“True.” She laughs. “What can I say, PSLs are life.” 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “They’re okay. I like tea better.” 

Just then, Alona comes out the kitchen with a towel in her hand. She abruptly freezes, staring at Felicia. In turn, Felicia is also gazing at Alona with wide eyes. Looking between them, comically, Misha clears his throat getting two startled looks from the both of them. He smirks at them as he grabs the towel from Alona and goes the now empty table near the window, leaving them to get acquainted. 

When he gets back to the counter, Alona and Felicia are talking to each other closely. Both of them are resting their elbows on the counter, leaning in as they converse. Misha sighs happily as he goes to the back to grab the broom. He finishes cleaning up the store and locks up when the clock hits 5. Finally, giving his attention back to the two lovebirds, he sees them exchanging numbers. 

“So, everything work out?” He teases them both. Their cheeks turn a tint of pink and they both smile at him. Felicia nods with a wide smile and Alona winks at him as she moves away from the counter. 

“Thanks for cleaning up.” Alona says with awe. “I didn’t even notice the time.” 

“Yeah, Felicia has that effect.” Misha laughs watching Felicia blush even more in embarrassment. 

“Shut up.” She pushes his arm. “It was nice meeting you, Alona.” 

“Yeah.” Alona gazes at her with fond eyes. “I’ll see you on Friday night.” She turns to Misha and takes the broom from him. “You two should go. Isn’t there homecoming tonight?” 

“Oh, we’re not going.” Felicia shakes her head. “I’m taking Misha to the outdoor movies, they’re playing _Empire Strikes Back_.” 

“We are?” Misha asks. 

“Yep.” She pulls at his arm. “I just decided and you can’t say no.” 

*** 

“I’m so sorry, Misha.” Felicia breaks the silence in the car. “I didn’t know they would be there.” Robert and his gang were at the outdoor movie, it was a public place and it wasn’t as if Felicia would have known. What’s worse is Robert brought his girlfriend, Eugenie, along with him. She resembles the idea of misogynistic women. Misha doesn’t know her that well, but he knows she can be a nightmare to have around, especially teamed up with Brad, her stepbrother. 

“It’s okay.” Misha shakes his head. “Are you okay though?” Eugenie did a number on Felicia. Calling her a dike and homophobic slurs thrown on her. She probably didn’t feel that great either. 

“Yeah.” Felicia turns a corner. “I’m just a little shaken up.” With a sigh, she pulls over to the address Misha gave her. “You don’t live here.” 

“Oh, yeah I need to go to the bank.” Misha pats his jeans pocket where his wallet lies. 

“I can wait for you and drop you home.” Felicia offers. Her eyes were still watery. 

“No, I’m fine.” Misha waves off. “Text me if you need anything or call Alona.” He turns to open the door but stops to turn. “She’ll be there for you even if you two just met.” 

“Yeah. I figured.” Felicia smiles, but the happiness does not reach her eyes. “I will. You text me when you get home.” 

He gives her a thumbs-up and walks out. He watches her drive out and then goes into the bank. Going through the procedure of making the check into cash took awhile. Not including the questionable looks he was getting from the banker. Kids probably never came for 1K of cash. At least it wasn’t a loan from the bank, which would have been even worse. 

With the cash in his wallet, he walks home, hoping he won’t get jumped. He reaches his neighborhood just when the moon is up high. A party was at full swing at one of the shacks, drunks and druggies filled the lawn and Misha picks up his pace to his own house. Getting inside, he turns and locks the door. He immediately puts his wallet inside the small tin the back of the closet. He didn’t want to carry that around until he gave all his money to Travis. 

Walking out his house, Misha beelines straight towards the house of the person that taunts him every time. If he knows so much about Travis, he might know how to get hold of him. He crosses the threshold of the sidewalk to the porch. His hands were clammy and bile worked up to the back of his throat. He had a bad feeling about this. 

Guttural animalistic sounds came from behind the door; one of a man’s and another a woman’s. It probably wasn’t the best time to ask him, but it’s better now than later. He wanted the debt paid off as soon as possible. With shaking hands, he brings up a fist to the door and knocks loudly, three times. A groan comes from inside and a few profanities follow. 

The door opens and the man stares down Misha in his birthday suit. A large scar spans the side of his torso and his dick was still spewing out pre come as he snorts at Misha’s alarmed face. 

“Wha’ dya want, kid?” He scoffs. “Can’t you see I’m busy with something?” He widens the door and points to the young woman on the couch. She winks at Misha as she sloppily licks two of her own fingers and then plunges them into her vagina. 

“I need to know how to contact Travis Wade.” Misha looks away and focus on the older man’s face. He watches the man’s expression go from mildly pissed to extremely livid. 

“You interrupt me and my whore just so I can give you shit info?” He yells at him. He grabs Misha’s sweater and pulls him in close. The odor of alcohol lays heavy in his breath. “Why the fuck would I do that, bitch?” 

The woman in the background moans loudly as she quickens her pace. She joins the conversation, “I know—“ She cuts herself off in her own pleasurable whine. “I know how to get a hold of Travis Wade.” 

“Shut up.” The man yells at her. “And add another finger, your not tight enough to only handle two.” 

“Oh, yes.” She whimpers, adding another finger into her heat. “I need your cock back in my ass.” 

“My lady is calling.” The man turns back to Misha and pushes him. “I don’t have time for a twink like you.” He slams the door on him. But Misha won’t relent. He knocks on the door, louder and with more ferocity. 

The door opens and the man squints at him. “Are you deaf?” 

“I’ll be out of your hair if you just tell me how to contact him and you can go back to screwing your girlfriend.” Misha says firmly. He hopes his face looks serious as it can be, the fear was racing through his bloodstream and he was 2 seconds away from running back to his house. 

“Fine.” The man concedes. He goes back inside, leaving the door open to the view of the women, fingering herself. He comes back with a piece of paper. “Go to this place tomorrow morning at 3. He’ll be there with a new shipment of drugs. You tell the cops, I’ll make sure you’ll never see the light of day again.” 

Misha nods, takes the paper and runs back home, not wanting to behind him. He locks the door, turns off the lights and goes right into his bed. He might as well go to bed now if he has to wake up at 2 to pay off Travis. Texting Felicia as he promised, he turns off his phone. The stress of that day, hit him head on and his body couldn’t take it so once his head hit the bed, he fell into slumber.


	15. Dilated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late. I lost some interest in the story for awhile but I got it back! :)

Three dull yellow lights illuminate the darkness, as Misha stands alert next to one storage container. He hears a few people shuffling and whispering behind the storage container. His hands grip the money in his hands in nervousness. Vicki would say he’s reckless. He’d agree with them. This is how people in movies die. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to keep his heart rate calm. Little did he know, a man noticed his presence, this is in fact a drug deal after all. 

A cool metal circular object lodges into Misha’s neck. His eyes snap open and he’s face to face with a large white man. His eyes, cool and hard, stare into Misha’s and he growls as he pushes him to the other side of the storage container. 

“I found him listening to us.” The large scary man says to a group of people. They turn around and all stare at the both of them. The barrel of the gun digs into his skin, as he winces. 

“Well, well, well…” A familiar slither of a voice laughs. “Isn’t this Alice’s boy?” Travis sneers at Misha, tossing a packet of white powder between his hands. “What do we have the pleasure of?” 

“I have the money you asked for.” Misha whispers. 

“What?” Travis stops playing with the bag and cups his ear to mock Misha’s fear. 

“The money.” Misha speaks a little louder. “I have it.” 

“Perfect.” Travis passes the bag to one of his men and clasps his hands. “Give it to me.” He gestures to the man who has the gun to Misha’s neck. The man shoves his hand into Misha’s sweatshirt pocket and pulls out the one thousand dollars and passes it to Travis. 

He counts the bills and shoves it into his own jeans pockets. “What did you do to get the money?” Travis asks. 

“I got you the money, please just let me go now.” Misha begs, not wanting to bring in anyone else into his shit. 

“Prostitution?” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Whatever you want to believe.” Misha widens his eyes as the man pushes the gun more into his skin. 

“So you did bend over like the little fag you are.” Travis laughs. “It’s a tragedy that I made a deal with you.” He takes the money out and points it at Misha. “Thanks for holding up your end. I hope you wake up early enough to get to school.” 

The gun was moved from his neck and the last thing he remembers is a sharp pain on the back of his head and his body falling to the concrete.

*** 

His bed was really hard. There was little pebble like objects digging into his cheek. Misha feels his mom shake his shoulder, trying to wake him up. He mumbles nonsense, rubbing his face on his concrete-like pillow. The smell of his room was industrial, like oil and machines. There is something wrong with this picture.

Misha springs up off the ground and realizes Travis’ men knocked him out. The scratch on his face burns and the back of his head pounded against his skull. In one way he was glad this was the only outcome of his recklessness. 

“Hey, kid, you okay?” A female’s voice asks. Misha turns to face the woman. She’s wearing orange and green plaid flannel and dark blue jeans. Her curly black hair and her caramel eyes look into his soul. 

“Uh…” Misha vocalizes. 

“Do you need to go the hospital?” She smoothly asks with concern. 

“No.” Misha shakes his head and hisses at the pain. “I’m okay, just need to go to work.” 

“How about I drop you off?” She offers. “I’m not a kidnapper.” 

Misha laughs and then groans. “Yeah, I trust you.” 

“My name is Tina, by the way.” 

“Misha.” He says before following her out. 

She leads him to a red Ford; there was scuba diving material in the trunk of the truck. He looks at the woman in curiousness. She unlocks the doors for them to get in. Misha rests his head against the leather seat and sighs. He’s going to support a massive headache for a while. 

“So, where do you work?” Tina asks, revving up the engine. Country music flows through the speakers as she steps on the gas to exit the storage facility. 

“Do you know Alona’s?” He replies, shutting his eyes from the bright Texan sun. It’s October, shouldn’t the sun hibernate for some time; at least October through December? 

“Ah, yes.” Tina voice has a slight joyful tone. “That place made me gain 5 pounds when it first opened. Alona Tal has magical hands.” 

“She does.” Misha agrees, hoping he’ll get to eat something nice that day. 

After a long silence, excluding the southern man talking on the radio about the top ten country songs, Tina speaks up, “Do you want to talk about why you were knocked out cold at the storage site?” 

“Not really.” Misha replies quickly, grimacing when they go over a speed bump. 

“And you don’t want to go the hospital?” She reiterates. 

“I don’t have health insurance.” Misha sighs. “The ER bill would kill me.” 

“I understand.” She says as she pulls up next to the shop. “Here is my number if you need any help. At anytime. I have some friends who are, well not your average doctor.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“They believe in Ayurvedic medicine.” She explains. “It’s an form of medicine from ancient India and it’s still beneficial today. If I take you to them, they won’t bill you.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Misha takes the card. “But I’m fine, really.” 

“Well, I hope I see you soon, Misha.” Tina bids her goodbye. “It’s been nice to meet you.” 

“You, too.” Misha smiles. “Thank you.” 

He gets out of the car and waves Tina bye as she drives off. While turning around, Misha grabs onto the parking meter while waiting for the world to stop spinning. The man hit him on his head harder than he thought. Pressing his free hand on his forehead he presses down, hoping the headache would subside. After a few more moments, he lets go and walks into the shop. There were already a few people in the shop and Alona frantically trying to bake and serve them at once. 

“Fuck.” Misha curses under his breath. He’s late. By 30 minutes. 

“Misha!” Alona exclaims from behind the counter. “Finally, you’re here. Work with this customer for me, I have to take the pastry dough out of the oven.” 

“Yeah!” He grabs his apron and quickly washes his hands and turns to the customer. The woman is wearing a pencil skirt and a blazer, for a Sunday morning. He puts on his smile and welcomes her to the coffee shop. 

“Yeah, get me a coffee to-go and one of the gluten free muffins.” She monotony orders, as she types away on her phone. 

He keeps if fake smile on his face and _enthusiastically_ gets her coffee and muffin. The woman pays and gives him zero dollars of tip. Tough crowd. Misha works through the morning crowd with an extremely painful headache. There were moments where he had to slow down because his vision would go blurry and he wouldn’t know the difference between the snickerdoodle cupcakes and the cinnamon cupcakes. 

Once his first break comes around, Alona finally emerges from the kitchen and brightly smiles at him, “Dude, I thought you ran away with my money.” 

“No!” He exclaims. “I woke up late.” 

“Chill.” She waves his exclamation off. “Do you know how many times I was late for high school? I think I still hold the record.” 

Misha laughs along with Alona and flinches at the ringing in his ears. He’s just going to have to go to sleep when he gets home. That’s the only way he can feel better. 

“Misha, are you okay?” Alona asks, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted. 

“Yeah, I accidently hit my head this morning too.” Misha brings his hand up the spot the gun was banged against his skull and touches it. The tender tissue makes him wince again and increases the intensity of the ringing. “It’ll go away.” 

“Okay.” Alona nods. “If you need to leave early, let me know.” 

“I will.” 

The ringing of the door alerts them of the next customer. Misha puts on his fake smile once again and turns to the new client but the fakeness disappears and a real smile replaces it when his brain realizes it’s the cute green-eyed guy from his school who flirts with him. 

“Hi, Jensen.” Misha greets. “What would you like today?” 

“Hey, Misha.” Jensen mirrors Misha’s smile. “Apple and cinnamon pie, please.” 

“Saying please won’t get you a discount.” Misha teases as he gets the mini pie out of the showcase. 

“Damn, really?” Jensen sighs disappointedly. “What if I compliment my barista’s eyes instead?” 

“What is it this time?” Misha teases, handing Jensen the pie. “Blue as the sky or deep as the ocean?” 

“Hmm…” Jensen thinks for a while, as he pays for his food. “How about the fact that they get super dilated when you see me and I know for certain from bio, that happens when you see something you really like.” 

He winks at Misha and walks out the door, leaving him in shock. His brain was still playing those words over and over again in his head. Even with his headache and ringing in his ear, Misha’s sure the fact that he’s heart is about to just leap out of his chest like one of those Saturday morning cartoons just because of Jensen. 

“Did he really fucking say that?” Alona screeches from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“I think so.” Misha whispers, not even caring that Alona’s screech just made his head feel even worse.


	16. Hands Plus Disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. I'm sorry I'm not updating as much.

Mr. Benedict was standing up in the front, monitoring a discussion between two groups about economics and how it affects the society. If Misha didn’t already have a massive headache, he’s sure the group backing up the trickle down economics would give him one. Thankfully, he only had to write a review of the discussion this early in the morning because he could barely sleep the night before. 

Once the bell rings, he grabs his bag and turns in the paper. His day was horrible. His head kept hurting throughout Yoga that the teacher just told him to lay down on the mat the entire time. It kept hurting for the rest of 3rd and 4th period. As he sits under the stairs with Felicia, he keeps his eyes closed the entire time they talk. Even in Drama, he barely listens to watching whatever movie they were watching. Honestly, Misha went through that school day, not knowing what was even truly happening. 

During play practice, Jensen came up to him to ask when they wanted to meet about the project. While they were setting up dates, Misha felt the world around him spinning. 

“Hey, Mish…Misha?” Jensen frantically panics and catches Misha with his arms. 

He blinks his eyes up at Jensen’s worried expression. Jensen’s fingers dig into his shoulder and mid back, trying to hold him up from falling. Robbie runs over from the room and tells Jensen to get him to the health room. Misha didn’t want to go but he couldn’t get himself to refuse. 

Jensen holds him up as they walk together to the health room. Misha is aware of the firmness and, strangely, protective weight of Jensen’s grasp on him as they walk across the campus. Thankfully, Nurse Ruth was still there finishing up some paperwork. Jensen sits down on the crinkly paper right next to Misha, releasing his grip on his shoulders and slides his hand down his arm and grabs on his hand. Misha stares at their linked hands in awe and disbelief as Jensen explains what happened to Ruth. 

“Thank you, Jensen, for bringing Misha here. You can go back to practice…” Ruth stops talking, realizing Jensen’s grip around Misha’s hand tightening as a sign of him not wanting to leave. “You can wait outside the room as I check up on Misha and I’ll call you when I’m done.” 

Jensen glances at Misha, who was still staring at their linked hands, and nods as he slowly takes his hand out of Misha’s hand. He closes the door and leans against the wall adjacent to the health room. 

“Misha, can you tell me what happened.” Ruth asks, taking out a penlight. 

“I’ve been feeling dizzy and lightheaded for two days now.” Misha explains his symptoms. “I’ve also had a headache and couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“Hmm…” She hums. “Do you play any contact sports or anything that might have lead you to hit your head in the past few days.” 

Misha remembers the cold butt of the gun hitting the back of his head, the sneering tone of Travis’ laugh. He remembers Tina and her concern about his health. Maybe he could have listened to her and this would not have happened. 

“I fell out of my bed yesterday and hit the back of my head.” Misha lies. 

“Hmm…” Ruth hums, shining the light in both of his eyes. “Have you been having any memory loss?” 

“Umm.. Not really.” Misha cringes, at the bright light. “Everything seemed slow today, like it wasn’t going to end.” 

“So, I think you might have a minor concussion.” Ruth says with a soft voice. “You need to give your brain a rest. No contact sports, try not to fall of your bed, and plenty of rest.”

“Okay, got it.” Misha nods, taking the handout about concussions Ruth gives him. 

“Well, your boyfriend is waiting outside for you.” Ruth smiles and nods towards the door. 

“What?” Misha blushes bright red. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a…” He stares at the door with the mixed feelings of awe and confusion, “A friend.” 

“Well, he cares a lot about you.” Ruth genuinely says as she opens the door for him. 

Jensen stood with his back against the wall. His Henley tight around his upper arms and dark jeans hangs low on his waist as he fiddles with his phone. Misha clears his throat and Jensen immediately looks up in concern. His were fingers still typing on his phone as if he was sending a quick message. 

“What happened?” Jensen asks, placing his cell into his back pocket as he walks towards Misha. 

“A minor concussion.” Misha explains, watching Jensen’s hand reach out to his forearm. His strong hands gingerly wrap around his arm and slightly pulls him towards him. 

“Oh thank fuck.” Jensen sighs in relief. “You’ll be okay. I’ve had those before.” 

They stare at each other for a while, in silence, before Jensen awkwardly dips his head and lets out a faux cough. 

“They still suck though.” Jensen breaks the silence. “How about I drop you home?” 

Misha startles at that, his heart rate increasing. He couldn’t bear the thought of Jensen finding out where he lived. Jensen lives in a rich neighborhood and if he sees where he lives…No, he can’t let that happen. 

“Umm…” Misha backs up, not wanting to look at Jensen’s face. “Felicia said she was going to pick me up.” 

“Oh.” His voice sounded disappointed. “That’s good, you’re not going to be by yourself.” 

Jensen finally lets go of Misha’s arm and takes a step backwards. “Someone brought your stuff while you were in the health room.” He points at the backpack on the chair behind them. 

After a few ticks on the wall clock, Jensen sighs, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of your head.” 

“Thank you, Jensen.” Misha whispers. 

“No problem.” He walks past him. 

*** 

Walking home was a long and difficult effort. Misha had to stop to sit down on the sidewalk to calm his headache down. Plus the air outside was getting colder. Finding out that the night air in fall and winter is colder than most places in the north. Which just plain sucks because the days can be up in the 60 and 70s but then drops down into the 20 degrees; increases the risk of him getting sick. 

He is, at the moment, lying in bed with all the lights turned off and soothing music playing from his phone. His head is repeating the scene with Jensen over and over again. So many times that he doesn’t even know if the tone of disappointment in the last few words Jensen said to him was imagined or not. With that last thought, he finally falls asleep.


	17. Confirming Doubts

A week later, Misha felt a lot better. His head was healed, classes were getting better, the gang of bullies mostly kept their space, and he met with Jensen at the library to work on their project. This morning he met with Matt Cohen, the principal, who went through scholarship options with him and gave him a deadline for college applications so he can send those out with his own recommendation. His dream is Chicago but he’ll also settle for anything in California, and for the heck of it Western Washington University because he’s always thought Bellingham was amazing. 

It was after practice and he was walking home in the dark. Testing his luck, he takes the alleyway because it was a faster route to get home. Sadly a week was enough for his luck to run out. The gang was all there. Michaels was passing out a white powder, which Misha recognized as cocaine, to Brad and Cody while Robert has a girl up against the brick wall, devouring her breasts. He tries to slowly back away but the girl notices him. 

“Hey, fag!” She yells, “You forget your dyke friend?” 

Brad and Michaels look at him with a feral expression. Robert lets go of, who Misha remembers as Eugene, and pretends to crack his knuckles. Cody is too high to even realize he was there and keeps snorting up the coke from the dirty dish. Fear enters Misha’s mind. Eugene takes a step forward, her button up open enough to expose her full breasts barely covered by the maroon bra. 

“You gotta problem?” She sneers. “Cat caught your tongue?” 

“Nah.” Brad laughs cynically, “Probably can’t speak cause he’s been on his knees taking guys in his mouth like a little bitch.” 

“Fucking disgusting,” Robert adds. 

“Okay. Okay.” Michaels steps up. “You know what we do with disgusting shits like you?” 

“Leave them alone?” Misha suggests. 

“What?” Brad questions. 

“I mean I leave you alone when you guys aren’t cleaning the surfaces you snort from, so in turn…” He says, with his voice wavering.   
“The fuck you sayin’?” Michaels growls right to his face. “I think we’ve been letting you off way too easy, this time I’m gonna make sure you decide to kill yourself, you pathetic, disgusting, cock-sucking fag.” 

“Hey!” A voice yells from the back. Michaels looks up with a startled face. The rest of the gang stumbles out of the alleyway in fear. Misha turns around and his eyes widen at the person who interrupted them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Michaels?” Jensen steps closer, his eyes filled with anger, such a stark difference from Jensen’s normal expression. 

“Why don’t you just run back to your sports, Jensen?” Michaels threatens. “You have no business here.” 

“Like hell, I don’t,” Jensen growls back. He catches Misha’s eyes and silently asks if he’s okay, to which, Misha slightly nods. 

“What would you want with this fag anyway?” Michaels grabs the back of Misha’s hair and pulls sharply, making him gasp in pain. “Wouldn’t your parent’s be happy that one more shitty homo will go to hell once we’re done with him?” 

“Michaels. Let. Him. Go.” Jensen enunciates while gritting is teeth. 

“What you gonna do?” 

Jensen pushes up the sleeves on his leather jacket, “You may have beaten kids half the size of you but I’ve tackled people twice as big as you, so you better know what to do right now.” 

Michael’s grip on Misha’s head tightens. In fear for Jensen’s sake, Misha shuts his eyes tightly, not wanting to know what happens next. His heart rate was faster than usual, it felt like an elephant sat on his chest and the back of this throat was swelling up. He felt completely useless and pathetic at this moment. The grip in his hair pulls him back and then pushes him forward into, whom he guessed as Jensen’s chest. 

“Whatever, I’ll let the fag go today,” Michaels says nonchalantly. 

Misha’s eyes are still closed tightly at the seams as he hears Michaels footsteps slowly turn into nothingness. Jensen holds him up from his elbows. Slowly, Misha opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly upward to see Jensen’s concerned expression. His eyes flicker between both of the hazel-green eyes. The golden specks in them looked even more prominent in the golden streetlight. 

“Misha?” Jensen finally asks with a soft voice. “Are you okay?” 

“Uh…” Misha’s smartly responds. 

Jensen’s eyebrows scrunch up as if he remembered something, “Is Michaels and his friends the ones who gave you that black eye in the beginning of the year?” 

Misha looks away in shame and is about to step back when Jensen’s grip tightens, refusing to let him go. He bobs his head forward to catch Misha’s eyes, to indicate he wants an answer. 

“It’s nothing,” Misha whispers, trying to focus on that one freckle on Jensen’s right eyelid. 

“Yeah, right.” Jensen scoffs. “You’re getting bullied and physically abused, and you call that nothing?” 

“I just have to survive this last year and I don’t have anything to do with them.” Misha tries to pull away from Jensen’s hands. “Why do you even care?” 

“What?” He stares at him dumbfound look. “Why do I care?” 

“You’re better off not talking to me, the school freak.” Misha swallows, trying to focus on stopping the tears that threaten to fall. 

“I care because you have the most beautiful eyes in the world and the funniest jokes and the fact that you’ve been on my mind since the day I met you in the in the bathroom on the first day of senior year.” Jensen blurts out quickly. 

Both Jensen and Misha gawk at each other, Jensen’s words echoing between the brick walls of the alleyway. The sound of cars from the close by takes over the environment. Their eyes stay in contact as they stand a foot apart from each other. Jensen in the first to break the eye contact as his eyes flicker down to Misha’s lips and back up to his eyes. Misha takes that liberty to, also, do the same. 

A loud banging noise comes from their right, as they startle out of the trance. A scrawny cat sat tall on the dumpster, with a dead mouse in its feline mouth. Misha glances back at Jensen to find him already looking at him. He ducks his head down to his ratty shoes as he hears Jensen let out a forced cough. 

“How about I drop you home?” He finally says. 

Misha shakes his head, knowing he would feel embarrassed for coming from such a poor run down community. He declines Jensen’s offer with a whispered no, taking a step back, towards the main road. 

“Misha.” Jensen pleads, his eyes showing strong emotion. 

“I can walk home.” Misha shakes his head again. “It’s not that far.” 

“It’s late.” Jensen persisted. “And your head just healed from the concussion and what Michaels did probably does not bode well.” 

Misha lets out a long deep sigh. He won’t be able to escape this time. He still doesn't want Jensen to know about the trashy place he lives but maybe he’ll just take him to a middle-class neighborhood and walk home. But the closest one he knows is a 40-minute walk from his place. He’ll just have to deal with that. 

“Fine.” Misha finally concedes. Jensen’s smile was wide as he motions to follow him to the parking lot with a bounce in his step. 

The lot was empty now. Everyone was gone. There is a lone black truck was in the middle. The shiny black metal shone under the yellow light. Jensen smiled at it as he opened the door for Misha. He lifts himself up on the foot bar of the truck as he settles into the black leather seat. Jensen shuts the door and practically skips over to the driver side and sits down next to him. The new car smell enveloped around them as Jensen revved up the engine. 

“Um…” Misha breaks the tension. “Nice car.” 

“Thanks,” Jensen says as he places a hand over the seat to look back as he reversed out of the parking spot. “I mean, it’s not a 1967 Chevy Impala but one day I’ll get her.” 

“I don’t know what that is but it sounds cool,” Misha says, leaning back on the cool leather. 

“What?” Jensen gasps. “Man, next time there is a classic car convention around here, I’m taking you. Classic cars are the shit.” 

“That sounds like fun.” Misha smiles. 

“Yeah, it is.” Jensen turns out the parking lot, leaving the school behind them. “Okay, where are we taking you?” 

“Umm...” Misha remembers he’s taking Jensen to the opposite side from his place. “Do you know Westchester Gardens?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Jensen nods, “That’s about a 15-minute drive from my place.” 

They turn onto the main street as Jensen turns on the radio. They drive in a comfortable silence, listening to the songs change from country to classic rock. Misha closes his eyes, letting the rumble of the truck rock him. His mind is occupied, reviewing the scene from the alley. He believes that confirmed the idea that Jensen probably has a crush on him. Why? Who the fuck knows? 

The smooth brake awakens Misha from his inner thoughts. The scene surrounding the truck was of large houses with white picket fences. He hides the look of sadness on his face and puts a blank face on. He sighs and turns to look at Jensen. 

“Thanks, I can walk from here.” Misha offers. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s just a few houses down.” 

Jensen nods and unlocks the doors for Misha to get out. He gets out the car, more like a jump because of the elevation of the truck. He turns around, thanking Jensen one more time before slamming the heavy door. Walking slowly in one direction, he hopes Jensen leaves before he gets suspicious. But he hears the engine shut off and the door open and close. Turning around, Misha notices Jensen slightly jog to him. 

“Is everything okay?” Misha asks. 

“Yeah.” Jensen breathes. “I just…” 

He looks down at his own shoes and uses his hand to massage the back of his neck. Opening and closing his mouth, his expression concerns Misha. Finally, Jensen lets out a shaky breath and mumbles something Misha couldn’t interpret to himself. 

“Je-“ Misha is about to say something but gets interrupted by Jensen. 

“Push me away if you don’t want this,” Jensen says before leaning forward. 

Misha’s eyes are wide open in shock and surprise. Jensen’s lips met his own. It takes him awhile to respond to the kiss. His eyes finally close; letting his muscles relax as he kisses Jensen back. His lips were softer than he thought they would be. His mind is in overdrive as he lightly places his hands on Jensen’s chest, leaning slightly up to add more pressure into the kiss. When Jensen realizes, Misha wasn’t pushing him away, he cups his face with both his hands and leans even further down. 

Jensen leans back; breaking the kiss to stare at Misha’s blissed out face for a second. He smiles and leans back down to kiss him again. He lets one hand wander into Misha’s hair, messing it up from the back. Gently biting Misha’s bottom lip, chuckling at the high-pitched gasp. 

“Jensen.” Misha groans into his lips. They both break apart, heaving as they catch their breaths. Jensen widely smiles down at Misha and massages the back of his head. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jensen asks. 

“I think we still go to the same school.” Misha jokes. “Unless kissing you changed that.” 

“Ha. Ha.” Jensen mocks then pulls him into a quick kiss. “I’m not letting you leave after this.” 

“I don’t want to.” Misha smiles widely. 

“Fuck.” Jensen gasps. “Your smile is beautiful too.” 

Warmth radiates from Misha’s chest to his cheek at the compliment. The feeling was overwhelming and different. It’s been awhile since he’s felt this way. He only felt like this with Vicki before and the last boy he kissed was his best friend from Boston, Darius. Jensen brought the same, yet so different feelings in him. It was dangerous waters. But all he wanted to do was jump in. 

“I should probably…” Jensen nods at his car but rests his head against Misha’s forehead. 

“It is getting late,” Misha whispers, rubbing his nose against Jensen’s. 

“Yeah…” 

They finally part with one last peck on each other’s lips. Misha watches Jensen get in his truck and drive away. Sighing, he gingerly touches his lips with his fingers, smiling to himself. He’ll have a lot on his mind on his long walk home.


	18. Diamonds and Chandeliers

“No Fucking Way!!” Felicia squeals after Misha telling her about last night. 

“Shhh.” Misha hushes, looking around. 

“He. You. Both of you.” Felicia demonstrates kissing with her hands. 

“Yes, Felicia.” Misha laughs.

He hasn’t felt this happy in months, probably half a year. After walking home in a daze, Misha went straight to bed but couldn’t sleep. He cuddled around his pillow, alternating licking his lips and touching them. Jensen kissed him. Jensen k-i-s-s-e-d him. 

“Wow.” Felicia’s baffled voice brings him back to the present. “How was it?” 

“Umm…” Misha blushes red. “You know just… It was… Like heaven.” 

“What’s like heaven?” A deep voice asks. Both Misha and Felicia look up to see Jensen standing there with a smirk. Felicia sniffles a snicker while Misha’s face heats up. 

“Nothing.” Misha mumbles. 

“Really?” Jensen now teases. 

Felicia expels a faux cough and clears her throat as she focuses on her notebook in front of her. Misha glares at her, only inciting her to laugh even more. Jensen moves closer to his desk before dropping a folded piece of paper in front of him. Misha’s fingers move to open it but Jensen grabs his hand, stopping him. He squeezes it lightly, indicating not to open it at the moment. 

“Read it during class.” Jensen instructs. “Then text me your answer.” 

“Okay.” Misha agrees. With that, Jensen goes to the front of the class sitting at his spot as Mark gets up just when the bell rings. 

“I would like to focus the major points of the theater during the Greek times verses the Shakespearean times.” Mark starts the class. “By Shakespearean times I mean the Elizabethan. We’ll start by the differences and the similarities of stages…” 

Misha zones out Mark’s voice as he opens the letter. The lettering is beautiful. But isn’t everything about Jensen beautiful? Just like the kiss and the touches and the glances. Shaking himself out of his mind, Misha carries on reading the letter: 

_Misha,_  
I don’t know if you had any sleep last night because I sure didn’t. Damn, all I could do is think of that mouth. Your taste. I want to kiss those lips again and again and again. Did you know you taste like cotton candy? Sweet, like sugar? I want to taste those lips all the time. Fuck. I’m getting off topic. Today is Friday, which sucks since I have a game. Wish I didn’t so I could bring you to my place and just. I don’t know. Hang out? But are you free tomorrow night? I know you work but I was hoping I could pick you up after work and take you to my place. To taste you again? Also to do our project but mostly make out. My parents will be out at an event for the Austin Police Department. Text me with your answer. I should go to bed because it’s already 2 am and I can’t stop thinking about you. Wow, that was sappy. This is sappy. If I give this to you, you have all the right to call me a nerd.  
\- Jensen 

Misha smiles at the paper then up at the back of Jensen’s head. He’s right. He’s a complete nerd; a cute one, though. Taking his phone out, he discretely texts his answer to Jensen. 

**Misha**  
_Yes. I’ll wait for you after work tomorrow. Also, you are a nerd. A cute one._

He places his phone on his lap, getting back to taking notes about the topic Mark’s talking about. Misha couldn’t believe he was happy for the first time in a long time. He wishes he remembered Vicki’s number so he can call them to tell them everything. Vicki would probably ask if he’d be okay with a threesome with them. Which were pretty awesome, to be completely honest. The buzz of his phone snaps him out of his thoughts. 

**Jensen**  
_Sweet. I’ll pick you up at 5. Also I may be a nerd but everyone knows the cute one between us is you._

**Misha**  
_Says the guy who makes all girls swoon for him._

**Jensen**  
_And one boy._

**Misha**  
_Really? Whose this boy?_

**Jensen**  
_You don’t know him. He’s got these really blue eyes, always wears these funky sweaters in the fucking Texan heat, a really nice ass, and I can’t get started on how soft his lips are._

**Misha**  
_Wow. I’m a little Jealous._

“Jensen.” Mark calls out. “That phone must be out because you’re googling the reason why the stage was usually below the audience in Greek theater.” 

“Acoustics?” Jensen answers with a smile. 

“Put the phone away before I read your texts out loud to the class.” Mark rolls his eyes before carrying on with the class. 

Misha smirks as he places his own phone away before he gets caught too. The joy he felt at the moment was different. He knows the possibility of it all come crashing down is very real. His fate was never that great. Most of the class and the rest of the day went on while he was in a happy daze. It’s better than the high he was on when he first tried weed. 

*** 

Work went by quickly on the beautiful Saturday. Alona was essentially squealing when he came into work. Felicia and her went out again and shared the fact Jensen and him kissed. The entire time, Alona teased him for thinking Jensen was straight. 

“No one is truly straight.” Alona states as she’s helping clean up at the end of the day. Misha snorts out the tea he was drinking and coughs as he tries to laugh. 

“What?” Alona questions. “I’m right. How can someone be hella straight when both girls and guys look A+. “ 

“All genders look A+.” Misha corrects. 

“Right.” Alona agrees. “All genders look A+.” 

The door opens with the jingle from the bell. They both turn to the customer to let them know they are closed but Jensen stands awkwardly with his hands in his ripped jeans. Misha sighs at the look of him. The brown leather jacket and the black t-shirt look so good on him. He’s going to go _hang out_ with him. 

“Hey.” Misha breathes out. Jensen responds with a shy smile, glancing at Alona and then back at him. 

“So…” Alona drags out the word. “How about you go ahead and go? I’ll clean the rest of the stuff up.” 

“Are you sure?” Misha asks her. She nods and pushes him towards Jensen. They both walk out together. The golden sunset makes the lighting perfect. The black truck shines brightly with the reflection of the sun as Jensen opens the door for Misha. They stay silent as Jensen turns on the engine and starts driving out to his neighborhood. 

“You—“ Misha clears his throat. “You look really good today.” 

He sees the smile creeping onto Jensen’s face as he tries to focus on the road in front of them. Misha watches Jensen open his mouth a few times before he sighs as the car comes to a stop at the red light. Looking over at Misha, Jensen reaches out and swipes the overgrown hair from his eyes. 

“I would say the same but that sweater is horrible.” Jensen teases. Misha looks down at his sweater. The sweater was a mustard color with a thick orange stripe over his chest. 

“What?” Misha gasps in fake shock. “This is vogue.” 

“Vogue?” Jensen laughs. “From the ‘70s?” 

“Rude.” Misha pouts and crosses his arms, looking out the window. 

“Hey, Misha, Misha, Mish…” Jensen tries to get his attention. He doesn’t notice the light turn green as he pokes Misha’s shoulder over and over again. The car behind them honks and Jensen startles, starting to drive again. 

“If you think my sweater is so horrible, how did you miss the green light?” Misha jokes.

“That orange stripe was so bright I thought it was still a red light.” Jensen fires back. 

“Like you haven’t worn something that was horrible.” Misha rolls his eyes. 

“Nope.” Jensen smiles. “I’m perfect.” 

“Wow, an ego.” Misha snorts. 

The truck turns onto a large driveway opening up to a large house. Stone highlighted the front of the house. The lamps, the same kind from _Narnia_ , lit up just when Jensen turns off the engine. There were at least 4 garages and two bay windows. It’s like a _House Hunters_ wet dream. Misha’s eyes widen at the Lamborghini and Lincoln waiting outside the garages. This place screamed the words money and rich. Not wanting to compare, he thinks back to his own shack-like house. The grass in front of his place is brown and burnt while the green landscape of Jensen’s front yard indicates professional workers. 

“This is where you live?” Misha finally gasps. 

“Uh.” Jensen uncomfortably grunts. “Yeah.” 

Misha picks up on Jensen’s awkwardness, “Eh, there should be a Japanese tree over there.” 

“What?” Jensen asks. 

Misha points to the most inappropriate place to have a tree, “Right there, there should be a tree and _then_ the house would be perfect.” 

Jensen fondly smiles at Misha and shakes his head, “You’re crazy.” 

“Ah, but that is my best quality.” He says, before opening the door to practically jumping out. “Come on show me your crib.” 

As they walk to the front door, Jensen walks close next to Misha letting the back of his hand touch his. After what seems like 50 miles, Jensen takes his keys out and opens the door. 

A blond middle-aged woman stands in front of the side mirror of the foyer, putting on diamond earrings. She turns and smiles at the both of them. A diamond necklace matches the earrings and the sea-foam green, silk gown show off her best assets. 

“Mom?” Jensen questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the benefit?”

“Yes, I am.” She says with a smile. “Your father was late from work today, leading to us being late.” 

“Oh.” Jensen nods, glancing at Misha. 

“Who's this?” Jensen’s mother asks, looking at Misha from head-to-toe. The judgment was clear on her face. His converse had a few holes and his hair was a mess. He is a contrast between her son and him. 

“This is Misha.” Jensen replies. “We’ll be working on a project from school.” 

“I see.” She states, with her head held high. “Well, welcome to the Ackles’ household, Misha.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Ackles.” Misha says with the most respect. “It is very nice to meet you.” 

“Please.” She scoffs. “Mrs. Ackles is my mother-in-law. Call me Marion.” 

“Of course, Mrs—I mean, Marion.” Misha tips his head in respect. 

“Wow.” Marion sounds impressed. “Jensen should learn some manners from you.” 

“Mom!” Jensen exclaims with a blush on his face. 

“I’m just saying, dear.” She states as she grabs a fur jacket from the standing coat hanger. “Misha, you should stay for dinner. The cook made some delicious caviar.” 

“Gross, Mom.” Jensen wrinkles his nose in distaste. “I’m not feeding him squid. We’ll just order some pizza.” 

“As you wish.” She shrugs. “Go ahead and go upstairs and do your project.” 

“Let’s go, Misha.” He shakes his head as he leads Misha more into the house. The grand foyer turned into a large open space. If he could, Misha would say he walked into Buckingham Palace. A rounding staircase winds on his left side a large piano on the right side, and right above him is a glass chandelier. 

His mouth is wide open, staring at the scene. He suddenly feels very small next to Jensen. Misha tries not to keep money and status as what makes a great human. He knows character makes a great human being. But that doesn’t mean Jensen believes in that. What if he leaves when he finds out the truth about his economic status? 

Suddenly, Misha feels a hand slip into his. Looking down, he sees Jensen’s and his hands enveloped together. Their eyes meet as he looks up. The hazel calms Misha’s mind, letting Jensen pull him up the stairs and into his room. He doesn’t know what the rest of his house looked like, as he only focused on the back of Jensen’s head. _Focus on Jensen, not his rich lifestyle._ He kept repeating that statement on the way to the room. 

The door closes and Misha is gently pushed against the door. Hands barricade him and a nose touches his nose. The musk of Jensen’s cologne engulfs his nostrils. It was a wood-like smell. Something that reminds Misha of the camping trip he took a few years ago in Boston. It’s intoxicating. 

“I really want to kiss you.” Jensen whispers, his minty breath blowing onto Misha’s lips. 

“Then kiss me.” Misha sighs, giving him permission. Without wasting any more time, Jensen moves in to connect their lips together. Suddenly, time froze for them. The sounds of their lips moving against each other highlight the room. Jensen moves his hands to Misha’s waist, digging his fingers into the ‘atrocious’ sweater. 

Misha decides to bring in some courage, grazing his teeth against Jensen’s lower lip. A deep moan escapes Jensen’s mouth; he challenges Misha by taking in his upper lip with his lips. He sucks, making Misha gasp loudly. With his mouth open, Jensen takes advantage and introduces his tongue into the mix. Misha’s hands spring up to wrap them around his neck. Pulling himself up, he lets Jensen explore his mouth. He tasted like peppermint gum like he had some right before. 

“Oh my God.” Misha moans as Jensen moves down from his mouth to his jaw, nibbling over to his ear. He zones onto his earlobe, nipping and sucking. 

“You can call me Jensen.” He huskily breathes into Misha’s ear. 

“What?” Misha opens his eyes. Jensen chuckles, whilst moving down to his neck. 

Scoffing, Misha pushes Jensen back with a glint in his eye. While he tries to maintain a serious look for being offended, even if he isn’t, and Jensen smirks as if he sees right through the charade. Breaking, Misha loses his resolve and brings Jensen’s head down to resume their kiss. His fingers weave into the sandy brownish-blonde hair and Jensen pulls him in with his hands rubbing up and down his back. Just like that, they keep on moving their lips together.


	19. Slice of Happiness

A large empty pizza box is discarded on the floor, muffled laughs echo the room, and it seems like the notebooks and laptop with an almost finished assignment is pushed to the end of the bed as the two boys lay on their sides whispering with each other. Misha traces his finger over Jensen’s smooth nose as he smiles at him scrunching it up before pretending to bite it. 

“Hey, tell me a secret of yours,” Jensen asks, playing with Misha’s hair. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “Anything.” 

“When I was younger I thought I would grow up to be a woman.” 

“What?” Jensen tries to stifle a laugh. 

“Hey,” Misha lightly pushes his shoulder. “I went through a whole gender crisis. Alas, I’m a cis male but the whole thing did open my eyes to different genders.” 

“Different genders?” Jensen’s forehead wrinkles as he detects a confused tone in his voice. 

“Yeah.” Misha sighs, searching for the right words. “Gender isn’t binary. There are more than two. I could send you a link that explains it better than I can right now.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Jensen nods, he looks over Misha’s shoulder at the clock. “It’s pretty late…I know this is really early and we haven’t even been on a proper date but would you like to stay over?” Misha's eyes widen as his heart beats out of his chest. “I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or you can sleep in a guest bedroom.” Jensen interrupts Misha’s train of thought. 

“No.” Misha places a finger over Jensen’s mouth. “We can share a bed, it’s fine. Just, I don’t want to…” 

“We’ll only do it when you’re ready.” He moves Misha’s finger from his lips. “I don’t want to be with you because you’ve got a hot ass, I want to be with you because you seem interesting and you have a great personality.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Jensen leans down, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Hey,” Misha leans back a little, “If I get to tell a secret, you do too.” 

Jensen fakes a gasp, “What? No, I don’t.” 

“You’re not allowed to kiss me until you tell me something you don’t others knowing.” He rolls on to his back, keeping his head facing towards the boy who made him happier than anything in one night ever since he moved to this city. 

“So, you know how I made fun of your sweater.” Jensen brings up. 

“Jensen.” Misha groans, shoving his face into the pillow. 

“No. No.” Jensen coaxes him to look at him. “And you said I would have worn something stupid…Wait here.” He gets up to his desk, grabbing an old magazine. “I used to model and they made me wear these.” 

Misha sits up and crosses his feet. He takes the magazine from Jensen’s hands. Once he sees the young version of the most handsome boy he’s ever seen, it takes everything to stifle the laughter that wants to erupt out of him. The pants he was wearing had a design of a brick wall. The reddish-brown color didn’t compliment anything anyone would wear with that. But what was unfair, Jensen still looked like a perfect person during that age of 9 or 10. 

“Go ahead, laugh until your heart is content” Jensen mumbles, lying down on his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. Misha places the magazine down and slightly smiles at the boy in front of him. He lies down next to him, persuading him to take his arm off his eyes with a tender touch of his hand. Jensen softly looks down at him, making him blush under the stare. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jensen whispers, turning and touches their foreheads together. “So beautiful.”

That’s the last thing Misha hears from him as he watches him close his eyes into a slumber. It’s been so long since he’s been called beautiful. His chest tightens as he stops the tears developing. Sitting up, he closes Jensen’s laptop, stacks the notebooks and papers on it before moving it to his desk. Before turning off the light, he takes a look at the boy on the bed. He was still on his side, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. 

“Are you going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to get back over here?” Jensen mumbles, patting the empty side of the bed with his hand. Misha feels his face heat up, before turning off the light and slipping into the bed next to him. 

He stares up at the wall, with his eyes wide open and heart beating hard. After a few more moments, he turns over to his side to face Jensen. He squints through the darkness at the shadow outlined by some lights from the computer. He keeps his hands to himself, in-between them both. Finally closing his eyes, he tries to make himself fall asleep but his mind is going at hundred miles per hour. He questions himself why Jensen likes him in the first place. When he feels a hand slip into his, he freezes and his mind goes blank. Not daring to open his eyes, he holds on to Jensen’s hand as he slowly falls asleep. 

*** 

Early in the morning, wet lips mouth at his neck awakens Misha. He hums against the soft pillow and he enthusiastically grabs on to Jensen’s shoulders. After a few more kisses to his neck, the lips move up, tracing a wet line against his jawline. Finally, Misha opens his eyes meeting bright green ones. The same ones he imagined in his dreams but this time, it was real. He’s actually in Jensen’s arms. These are actually Jensen’s lips against his own. He’s having such a hard time realizing everything that was happening was real. 

“Morning,” Jensen says, his voice rough and sleepy. Misha hums contently in response, pulling him back him to continue their kiss. Neither of them knew about the large teenager coming up the stairs outside the solitude of the room. When Jensen moves his hands to grip Misha’s ass, the door of his bedroom slams open. 

“Holy Shit!” The deep voice exclaims before shutting the door. When the shock leaves Jensen’s and Misha’s systems, they realize they were still entangled with each other. Misha’s neck was blossoming a fresh bruise and both of their lips were swollen and glistening with saliva. 

“J-Jensen?” Misha asks with wide eyes. 

“Fuck,” He swears mostly to himself before turning to Misha’s scared expression. “It’s fine; it’s just Jared. I’m going to go out and talk to him for a second.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t mean to be rude or assume, but this _is_ Texas.” Misha shrugs, letting Jensen get up. 

“Jared isn’t like that.” He places a reassuring kiss on Misha’s forehead. “He actually helped me flirt with you.” 

“Helped?” 

Jensen hides his blush, “Hey, you were new, really good looking. I was afraid of messing up. I’ve never been with a guy before, you know. This _is_ Texas.” 

Misha sits up, grabs the edge of Jensen’s t-shirt. “I think you’re doing more than fine. To be honest, I was intimidated by you.” 

“Yeah?” Jensen moves one to rest of his knees on the bed to kiss Misha again before he was interrupted by a knock. “I’ll be right back.” 

Once he was out the room, Misha get out of bed, walking back and forth. He rubs the back of his neck with his palm, trying to steady himself. He could hear the whispers behind the door, making him even more nervous. After what seems like hours, Jensen finally opens the door and Jared comes in and immediately envelopes Misha into a large hug. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jensen stands at the door with his hands up in a shrug. 

“If I want to hug the kid whose making my best friend happy, I will.” Jared says before squeezing the breath out of Misha’s lungs before letting go. “You look better without the black eye.” 

“I-what?” Misha glances at both the boys, with wide eyes. Jensen chuckles, closing the door before walking over to him. 

“Jared is like a oversized puppy.” He explains, “It’ll take awhile to get used to.” 

“So, what are you guys up to?” Jared asks, grabbing the chair from Jensen’s desk and sitting down. “Other than, you know.” He winks before making kissing noises. 

“Really, man?” 

“What?” 

Misha feels awkward getting between two friends who know each other so well. They both look like extensions of each other. He smiles at them as they converse. Looking at the clock on Jensen’s bedside, he sees he has 30 minutes until work starts. 

“Um…Jensen.” Misha speaks ups, “I kinda need to be at work in 30 minutes.” 

“Oh, yeah. I’ll drop you.” Jensen stands up, grabbing his sweatshirt. “There is an toothbrush in the bathroom if you want to freshen up before you leave.”

He nods, as he steps into the bathroom, closing the door from the two boys. He glances around the room, noticing two sinks and a large walk-in shower. He grabs the extra toothbrush in its wrapper that’s on the counter. As he places the paste, he keeps glancing at the shower. It’s so roomy. Two people could fit into it. Shaking his head, he turns back to focusing on brushing his teeth. 

*** 

Jared runs into the café, as soon as Jensen parks his truck. Misha slowly walks with Jensen, as his hand itches to hold his. When they enter the café, Jared already has a cupcake shoving into his mouth. Alona was leaning over the counter, holding back her laughter. 

“Dude, Jared.” Jensen interrupts, “Choking isn’t cool.” 

Getting a middle finger in response, Jensen rolls his eyes and turns his head to Misha. Giving him a peck on his cheek, he slaps his ass before pushing him towards the counter. 

“Time for the working man to start getting paid.” He winks. Misha’s drops his mouth and playfully glares at Jensen. Leaving it, he shakes his head as he walks away from him to start washing up for his shift. 

“So…” Alona starts, staring at him with an amused expression. “I see last night went well.” 

“Alona.” He hisses, tying the apron behind his back. 

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.” She points out. “That’s part one of the walk of shame. Don't forget that huge hickey on your neck." 

Misha places his palm on the side of his neck, hiding the mark. He's going to be sporting this for a few days. Cringing at the thought of Felicia seeing it tomorrow, he groans internally. But honestly, he doesn't mind. He wants to show off that he's happy. Show the world that even if his life sucks at times, he can have bits of happiness. With a tap on his upper arm with the back of a mixing spoon Alona has, she winks at him before going to the other side of the counter. 

“Excuse me, Misha.” Jensen intrudes. “I, a very patient customer, am waiting for the very sexy barista to help me.” 

Misha feels the blood race up to his cheeks and deliberately tries to look at neither Alona nor Jared. But he could hear their muffled laughs. He shyly walks to up to _the very patient customer_. 

“Let me guess, one of those mini-pies?” Misha says, pointing at the glass display. 

“Yeah, the pecan ones.” Jensen places his elbows on the counter, smirking at him. 

“Hey, you know we still exist here, right?” Jared calls out, with his hand raised. 

“Shut up, Jar.” Jensen mutters, pushing him away. 

For exactly two days, Misha feels happy. He forgets about how his home life is like. He forgets about the shits at school. He’s finally happy. And right now he wouldn’t have it any other way. But in the back of his mind, he knew something is going to happen. Something to ruin all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously apologize for doing this so late. I entered DCBB and I started working on that story. So... yeah... I'm sorry. Please comment and let me know how you like this fic :)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://heavenlycas.co.vu/) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heavenlyish)


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